The Gang Celebrates Christmas
by Obsessive Explosion
Summary: Mustang's squad has to catch a dangerous criminal during the holiday season.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N-** This is just a fun fic to celebrate Christmas! All of it's going to get posted in the next few days. Rated T for violence, there's going to be quite a bit of hurt Mustang in the next chapter or so, but this chapter is mostly just fun. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

The house was beautifully decorated. The halls were sprinkled with glittering lights and gauzy "snow," and a tastefully ornamented Christmas tree was on display in the corner of the living room. There was mistletoe hanging from the ceiling, and evergreen boughs over every window. If not for the half-dried pool of blood slowly seeping into the tree skirt, it would have been the perfect Christmas tableaux.

"Evil Santa again?"

Riza turned around and shot Havoc a quelling look. That was the nickname that the squad had selected for the dangerous criminal they were trying to catch, and try as she might, she couldn't get them to find a more suitable name.

Not that she was trying very hard. It was Christmas time, and she couldn't bring herself to forbid them from having a bit of fun. But using the irreverent nickname at an actual crime scene was something else entirely.

Havoc caught her eye and looked slightly ashamed. Beside him, Breda struggled to hide a snicker. Riza resolutely ignored the both of them and answered Havoc's original question.

"It seems to be the same criminal we're tracking, yes. Preliminary investigation shows that this fits his MO."

"There's signs of a robbery?" Havoc asked, glancing around for evidence.

"Upstairs," Riza said. "Like the others. He seems to have broken in, despite the family being at home. There were more bodies upstairs, and it seems that some valuables are missing."

Havoc grimaced. Breda's expression was characteristically indecipherable, but Riza thought he seemed bothered as well.

This time, Riza was in full agreement. The man they were trying to catch was ruthless, and what's more, intelligent. He'd started his crime spree a year ago, when the military in East City was thinned out with holiday leave. Then, once the Christmas season was over, he'd disappeared.

But one Christmas later, he was back, and this time it was their team's job to catch him.

"Do they have anything yet that'll help us catch this guy?" Havoc asked hopefully. "It'd be nice to get this done by the time we go on leave. I bet my sister would like to hear about how her big brother caught a dangerous criminal…."

Breda chuckled. "Havoc's trying to impress his _sister_ for once. Makes a nice change."

Havoc rolled his eyes. "There aren't any girls in my hometown I wanna date. Duh."

Riza shook her head, amused by their unusually high spirits. "The Colonel should be here soon. Hopefully, he'll have some new information for us."

It was another few minutes before Mustang arrived, and the look on his face didn't bode well for their investigation.

"No clues?" Havoc said, sounding slightly disappointed.

Mustang glared at him, rather unnecessarily, Riza thought.

"Does it _look_ like I have good news?" Mustang snapped. Havoc shrugged, sulking a little.

"Sorry for asking," he said, somewhat insincerely. Mustang glared at him again, then looked at all three of them.

"This criminal has become top priority," Mustang said shortly. "All of you, me included, are going to be working overtime. You'll have the 24th and the 25th off, but that's all."

Havoc looked as though Mustang had canceled Christmas entirely. Which, Riza supposed, he had. She knew that many of the squad still went home for the holidays, Havoc included. The Christmas season was one of the few times a year he saw his family. Like Mustang, Riza didn't really have any family left. Shortening her Christmas leave didn't affect her much, although she knew it would deeply upset the rest of her team.

It bothered Havoc enough that he disregarded his superior's black mood, and he opened his mouth to protest. Riza shook her head at him, but he either didn't notice or didn't care.

"Only two days? Colonel, I haven't seen my parents for a year-"

"My parents are dead," Mustang snapped at him. "Grow up. You'll survive with only two days' leave." He turned away from Havoc, the second lieutenant's expression an interesting mix of indignant and upset, and focused in on Riza.

"What have you found?" Mustang asked. "Any additional clues?"

Riza was having a hard time forming an answer with Havoc standing behind Mustang looking like he might burst into tears. And Riza had been looking forward to a few extra days off work, if just to catch up on sleep, not that she would ever admit that to anyone….

Riza shook herself slightly. Catching a dangerous criminal with an ever-growing body count was certainly more important than her rest and relaxation. It was also more important than Havoc's family time, as much as she knew he believed differently. Their job was to serve Amestris, whatever that might take, they had known that when they'd signed up. They couldn't leave a dangerous criminal on the streets just because they didn't _feel_ like catching him.

"No, sir, we haven't found any clues that get us closer to his identity. All we've managed to do is determine that it is in fact the same criminal from last year. But we haven't finished looking through the upstairs, and we're still trying to determine exactly what's missing."

"How many deaths?"

"Four, sir."

"That brings it up to thirteen victims between this year and last year," Mustang muttered darkly.

"Yes, sir. Would you like to go over the second floor of the house again with us?"

"Hang on," Havoc said suddenly. "You...you're not going to say anything to him? Come on, Lieutenant, you can't let him do this to us!"

Riza bit her lip slightly. She wished there was something she could do to help Havoc, she really did. But it seemed like Mustang was getting pressure put on him from someone higher up, and there really was nothing she could do about that. And he seemed to be in a foul mood on top of it all; she was nervous to cross him. She felt helpless.

Riza was still searching for the words that would calm Havoc while impressing on him the severity of the situation when Mustang whirled on him.

"Lieutenant Havoc, I do not want to hear another word out of you unless it pertains to the case!" Mustang said angrily. "Your duties to this country are more important than your holiday entertainment, and this decision is final."

"But sir-"

Mustang silenced him with a glare, and then turned abruptly and started heading up the stairs, towards the rest of the bodies. Riza saw Havoc and Breda exchange a frightened, angry glance.

"Let him get a little ahead," Riza said quietly, watching his back disappear up the stairs. Breda and Havoc both waited, eyeing her carefully.

"Lieutenant, you can't let him do this," Havoc said as soon as he was out of earshot. "I already bought tickets home, and my mom is making Christmas dinner…."

"This order is coming from higher up than him, and there's nothing I can do," Riza said sadly. "But if we can solve this case fast enough, maybe you'll still have time to take a few days of leave at the end of the week. So just...let's just do our jobs, alright?"

Havoc nodded unhappily, and the three of them followed Mustang up to the second floor.

* * *

Mustang's back stiffened as he heard the stairs creak under his squad's weight. He promised himself that if Havoc opened his mouth one more time, he'd dock his pay for the whole month. Merry fucking Christmas.

It wasn't like he was happy about cutting short his men's time off. He wasn't a sadist. But his own superiors had just spent the morning yelling at him to catch the criminal, and Fullmetal had been humming carols off-key for the better part of a week, and everyone around him was so irritatingly _happy_ ….

He didn't hate Christmas, not necessarily. But the whole of East City was decorated with lights and presents and oppressive good cheer, everyone ready to spend time with family and friends. Since Mustang didn't have many of those, he usually spent Christmas alone.

Not that that was a bad thing. He enjoyed the time off work, but he usually found himself itching to be back at the office long before his leave was over. Getting his time cut to only two days didn't affect him nearly as much as it did the others.

But orders were orders, and Havoc had no right to make such a fuss. It's not like Mustang could do anything about it. Expecting otherwise was just disrespectful.

Mustang's anger rose again, and he let it come. As long as he was angry at Havoc, at Breda, even at Riza, he wouldn't have to think about the reasoning behind his foul mood.

"Sir?" It was Riza's voice, gentle and non-accusatory. As it was meant to, it calmed him, and he turned around, determined not to let his temper get the better of him.

But Havoc was standing behind Riza, looking _wounded_. Breda, too, had a shade of disappointment in his face. Like this was somehow Mustang's fault.

Mustang took a deep breath and addressed Riza, doing his best to ignore the two men. "I haven't found anything so far," he said, turning.

"Perhaps the military police will find something," Riza said softly. "We should take the new information back to the rest of the team. And besides…."

She trailed off, but Mustang knew what she hadn't said. The rest of his men still had to be informed that they wouldn't be getting their time off. Not that he wanted to be the bearer of that bad news, judging by how Havoc and Breda had received it. Maybe he'd make Havoc do it, then he could be the bad guy….

Riza was right. Mustang didn't have any idea what he was looking for, and he didn't want to poke through the ruins of a family's happiness any more than he had to. So he nodded at her, swung around, and marched back down the stairs.

Mustang's car sputtered and coughed all the way back to Eastern Command, releasing greasy clouds of foul black smoke that did nothing to lighten his mood. Finally, after hitting what had to be every red light in East City, he pulled into the parking lot and slammed the door open.

It was cold, another reason to hate this time of year. He shivered slightly and made his way to the door, forced to move slowly because of the patches of ice scattered across the pavement. He glared at the shiny puddles, idly considering pulling out his gloves and melting them. Just because he could.

But Riza, Havoc, and Breda were already back. By this time, they'd likely broken the news to the rest of the squad. He shuddered. If he walked in that door and Fuery was crying, he was going to turn around and walk right out again. And one word out of Havoc…. He almost hoped the second lieutenant would disobey him, or even disagree with him. He wanted to yell at someone, to take the sting out of the lecture he'd received this morning.

He made his way up to his office, where the rest of the squad was waiting. They were already working on the case; Riza was filling out a thorough report of the house they had just examined, and the other four were poring over the reports from the previous year, looking for anything that could lead them to the person responsible. The mood in the office was subdued. Even though Fuery, Falman, Havoc, and Breda were all working together, they were barely talking. Everything was quiet.

Mustang narrowed his eyes slightly. It was _too_ quiet. He'd spent the last week and a half listening to off-key Christmas carols sung by Fullmetal and occasionally Alphonse, so constant he'd barely had a damn moment to think. The fact that there was no singing could only mean one thing - that the Elrics hadn't arrived yet.

As the only other alchemist on Mustang's team, Ed was just as necessary to the investigation as the rest of them were, which meant he also wouldn't be getting any extra time off. Mustang knew he and Alphonse had bought tickets back to Resembool, but they wouldn't be using them. Well, he supposed Alphonse could use them, Mustang didn't have the power to order him to stay, and he wouldn't anyway. But he didn't think Alphonse would be going home without his brother, and that meant both of the Elrics were going to be staying in East City this Christmas.

Mustang had hoped the kids would have already arrived, and someone else would be able to explain the situation to them. Mustang didn't want to do it. He'd had enough of people being mad at him today, and he could already see the shocked injustice that would be in the Elrics' eyes when he told them….

Mustang didn't want to think too hard about this. He wished Christmas just...wasn't happening, so he could pretend this was just a normal weekend and then everyone would get right back to work after it was done.

He turned to Riza. "Can we...take all these down?" he said, gesturing widely at the office, which had been decorated with Christmas lights and paper chains a few days before. He didn't want them up anymore, all of a sudden. He didn't want all these reminders of Christmas constantly staring him in the face.

"Sir?"

"Did you mishear me, Lieutenant? I want these decorations taken down."

Riza sighed. "Sir, that's really not how it works. They're supposed to stay up until after Christmas. It's only the 23rd."

Mustang fought to keep his voice level. He knew he was being irrational, but he didn't care. "But today's the last day we're spending in the office before Christmas, we won't be enjoying them tomorrow or the day after. So why can't we just take them down now? What does it matter? We won't want them up on the 26th, and we don't have a person to waste removing them then either."

Riza looked at the ground, which startled Mustang. She always looked him in the eyes when she spoke, if she didn't it meant she was upset. "They're helping to boost morale, sir," she said finally, very softly. "They're helping us stay in the Christmas spirit."

"Fine," Mustang snarled, and retreated behind his desk. He dropped into his chair, knowing he looked petulant but unable to stop himself. In the office before him, his men ducked their heads and returned to their work, unwilling to meet his eye.

* * *

Ed pulled his coat closer around his shoulders, but he didn't really mind the cold. Not when the city was sparkling with lights, and there was music coming from every shop, when people were smiling at each other for no apparent reason. He glanced at Al beside him, and although there was no expression on the armor's blank face, he thought that his brother was just as happy.

Today was the last day he and Al would be in East City. Starting tomorrow, they had a whole week off, and Al had managed to convince him to get tickets home.

Home. It had been quite a while since they'd been back to Resembool. Ed didn't want to admit it, not even to himself, but he was beginning to feel a little homesick. Winry and Pinako had invited (ordered) the Elrics to stay with them for Christmas, and Al had pressed Ed until he gave in. The Philosopher's Stone wasn't going anywhere, they could take a week.

And for the first time in what seemed like forever, but could only be a few years, Ed was excited for Christmas. He'd be with family, or almost-family, and he'd be home, and he wouldn't have to worry about Al or himself. It sounded like a nice break.

Al made a noise beside him, and Ed turned, surprised. "What is it, Al?"

"Nothing," Al said, and Ed heard a smile in his voice. "It's just that you're humming again."

"Why wouldn't I?" Ed demanded. "It's Christmas! One more day, and we're free of that bastard for an entire WEEK. A whole week where no one tells us what to do, or nags at us…."

Al snickered. "Brother, we're staying with Granny Rockbell."

"Yeah, but I can tell her to shut up without getting court-martialed," Ed pointed out. The outline of Eastern Command appeared ahead of him. For once, he didn't slow his pace. This day wouldn't be so bad, because it was the last one. He could handle one day. Still grinning, Ed swept into the building and made his way down the halls, trailing Al behind him.

As soon as he opened the door to the office, he knew something was wrong. Usually, the squad would already be shouting about some new argument, paperwork cluttering the desks while they struggled to meet an arbitrary deadline. Mustang would be in the back, smirking as he avoided doing any work whatsoever, and Hawkeye would be calmly rotating throughout the room.

But Havoc, Fuery, Falman, and Breda were silent, staring at their work. Riza was at her own desk, looking vaguely dissatisfied. Mustang sat slumped in his chair, scribbling furiously at a stack of paperwork. When Ed entered, he glanced up and his face immediately fell into a scowl.

That explained the silence. Mustang looked to be in a vicious mood. Ordinarily, Ed would do his best to worry the Colonel's tattered temper until it frayed entirely, but he didn't want to do anything to ruin today. He was too excited about his week off to let the Colonel get in his way.

"Fullmetal," Mustang said sourly. "How kind of you to grace us with your presence."

Ed was only a few minutes late, but he wasn't going to rise to Mustang's needling. So he just shrugged and slumped into a chair in front of Mustang's desk, whistling a Christmas carol as he did so.

"Stop _whistling_ ," Mustang hissed, his eyes narrowing. Ed whistled a few more bars, but Mustang's eyes flashed dangerously and he stopped.

"I heard there was another house hit," Ed said, deciding to play the good little soldier and get this over with as soon as possible.

"There was," Mustang said, and seemed to be steeling himself to say something unpleasant. "In fact, the military has now deemed this case to be top priority. Meaning, of course, that the leave for this office has been cut back to two days."

Ed stared blankly at Mustang, sure that he had to be joking. "Two...two days?"

Mustang nodded. "You will be expected to report back to Eastern Command on December 26th."

Beside him, Ed heard Al make a little noise of distress. Before he knew it, he was on his feet, hands on Mustang's desk.

"You've got to be kidding me! We have tickets home- Winry's expecting us-"

Mustang cut him off flatly. "As I was just attempting to explain to Lieutenant Havoc, your duty to Amestris is more important than your travel plans."

"I'm not even a proper soldier!" Ed yelled, trying to keep the whine out of his voice. "And this means that Al won't be able to go home either…."

"Alphonse is certainly welcome to return to Resembool on his own if he wishes."

Ed swallowed hard, irrationally afraid that he was about to start crying, right here in front of the entire team. He bit down on his lip, trying to control himself. He would _not_ give Mustang the satisfaction.

"I'm staying with Brother!" Al said firmly from behind him, and Ed felt his heart tighten painfully.

"You're a bastard!" Ed yelled at Mustang, knowing he sounded like a toddler throwing a tantrum but not caring in the slightest. "You're a monster! Why do you hate Christmas?"

"Edward, control yourself!"

This was not Mustang speaking, but Riza. He whirled towards her, completely shocked that Riza, _Riza,_ could be taking Mustang's side in all this, when he was doing something that was clearly so unfair, so wrong….

But her face was gentle, and a little sad. He couldn't yell at _Riza,_ that wouldn't be fair, she was probably the only thing keeping the bastard Colonel from working the entire team into the ground. None of this was _her_ fault. But shouldn't she still be able to help him?

"But he-" Ed felt his voice rising again, his pulse thrumming in his ears. Riza lifted her hand to quiet him.

"Look over the case report today, so you can get a sense of the investigations we're doing. Lieutenant Havoc is working on them now. Just...do your best to help solve the case. I have to go make a phone call, I'll be back in a few minutes."

Ed watched her leave the room, trying to calm his breathing and wishing his hands would stop shaking quite so bad. He didn't want to turn around and look at Mustang again. He was worried he would "accidentally" punch him in the face.

"It's fine, Brother," Al said quietly, coming up behind him. "We can...we can do something nice here in East City, and I'm sure we'll be able to visit Winry and Granny again soon…."

"You could always go home still," Ed said. "There's no reason for your Christmas to be ruined too, and we already bought tickets…."

"I'm not leaving you."

Ed sighed, frustrated that Al was refusing to leave, glad that he didn't have to be alone. He walked over to the table where the others were working, peering over Havoc's shoulder at the case report. He didn't really understand why he was even involved in this, he'd be able to help catch the criminal once they actually figured out who it was, but he wasn't any good at investigations….

"I'm sorry, Ed," Havoc said, not even bothering to be quiet, even though Mustang was still seated at his desk. "We're all upset too."

Mustang shot Havoc an evil look, but the second lieutenant ignored his superior and tried his best to smile at Ed.

"We're all gonna be here too," Havoc said, deliberately not looking at Mustang. "We...we'll figure it out, okay Chief?"

Ed nodded, feeling the backs of his eyes prickle again. He blinked furiously and nodded at Havoc. Havoc's smile turned into something more genuine, and Ed thought he might feel a little better.

"Havoc, if you're not back at work in thirty seconds-"

Ed growled slightly as the second lieutenant ducked his head over the paperwork. But one glance at Mustang's scowl changed his mind. They'd pushed the Colonel far enough, and even Ed didn't want to find out what he'd do if they tried anything else. So he shut his mouth and carefully looked over the case files that Havoc handed him, keeping Riza's words in mind. Maybe he and Al could still make it home.

A few hours later, Ed was starting to realize that he wouldn't make it to Resembool this year. The squad seemed to have no idea who this guy was or where he was hiding, and Ed certainly didn't have any ideas about how to find him.

He placed his head on the desk and groaned, then shot a guilty glance in Mustang's direction, expecting to be yelled at by the irascible Colonel. But Mustang's chair was empty. He must have left the office at some point when Ed was absorbed in the investigation.

Ed snorted. He should have known the Colonel was gone, no one had been yelled at for a few minutes. He didn't know what was wrong with Mustang today, but he was even more difficult to deal with than usual.

And usually, he was a nightmare.

Ed scowled at the files stacked in front of him. He wasn't an investigator, and he wasn't making any progress. He didn't even know why he was here. Ed frowned, thinking of how happy he'd been this morning, when this was his last day in the office for a week and he was going home to Resembool. He let his head fall back to the desk and clenched his fists, imagining punching Mustang in the face (preferably with his automail). That mental image would probably be the best thing about this holiday season, he thought glumly.

* * *

Riza looked up from her desk and glanced at Ed, who was slumped morosely over his paperwork. His brother's expression didn't change, but of course it never did. However, Al had hardly said anything since Mustang had told them the bad news.

Riza's lips flattened. She felt sorry for the rest of the squad, but not nearly as much as she did for the Elrics. Havoc and Breda would get over the inconvenience, but the Elric brothers were children. That was easy to forget, at times, but Mustang couldn't expect them to behave as adults. True, Ed had sacrificed a lot of that freedom by becoming a dog of the military, but the boys had had a long year.

Despite Ed's protests, Riza knew how close they were to Winry. She and her grandmother were the closest thing the boys had to family, and it had been a long time since the Elrics had gone home. She wished with all her heart that she had been able to make things turn out differently.

But as it was, she would try the best she could to make this Christmas a little better for the Elrics. And the boost in morale couldn't hurt the rest of the squad, either.

Riza forced a smile onto her face and stood up from her desk. Heads turned to her, looking vaguely interested.

"We may not have the entire week," Riza said gently, "but it's still the last day of work before Christmas. We _were_ planning to celebrate…."

Ed's head snapped up, his eyes looking almost hopeful. Havoc looked at Ed, then turned to Riza. He grinned at her, and Riza no longer had to force her own smile.

"Yeah, come on guys. It's Christmas!" He dropped his voice in an aside to Ed, no doubt assuming that Riza couldn't hear him. "And just think of how much celebrating is gonna annoy the Colonel…."

Ed laughed, and Riza held back a chuckle of her own. Then, she started unbuttoning her military jacket. Ed stared at her in confusion, but behind him, she saw Havoc's eyes light up with recognition. He started unbuttoning his jacket too.

Ed scrunched his face up a little bit, and Riza smiled slightly. She was glad she'd had the foresight to prepare a few Christmassy things for the Elrics days in advance, because she knew no one in the squad would have the energy to pull off something like that now.

"The Colonel is not going to like this when he comes back in," Havoc said.

Riza shrugged slightly. She had told the Colonel what they were doing, but he had been in a better mood then and he had still essentially ignored her. Havoc was right, he probably wasn't going to be happy. But it was unfair of him to force the rest of the squad to be miserable just because he was, and Riza wasn't going to stand for that.

Ed cracked a genuine smile when he realized that under her jacket, instead of her usual turtleneck, Riza was wearing a red sweater with a Christmas tree on it. Riza watched Ed look around and realize that the rest of the squad had also been wearing Christmas sweaters under their jackets. None of them looked as happy as they had the previous day, when they'd first agreed to wear Christmas sweaters to work, but they'd all remembered, at least. The atmosphere in the office had tangibly relaxed once the jackets had come off, and Riza saw a few sincere smiles among the rest of the men.

"This is great," Ed said, grinning. "I wish I'd been in on it though, then I'd have worn something too…."

"It's alright, we have something for you," Riza said. She opened the drawer of office supplies in the Colonel's desk, where she'd hidden two Santa hats for the Elrics, a normal-sized one for Ed and a larger one that she'd had to custom-order for Al. She put the smaller one on Ed, smiling a little as his face lit up, then reached up and put the other one on Al, who made a small, pleased sound of excitement.

"Thank you, Lieutenant," Al said happily, reaching up to adjust his hat a little. "I haven't...I haven't had one of these in years…."

"Yeah, thanks!" Ed said excitedly, looking for all the world like a little elf with his Santa hat and red coat.

"We have Christmas cookies too," Riza said. "I can go get them, Fuery made them last night-"

"What is the meaning of this?"

Riza whipped around. Mustang was standing in the doorway of the room, eyes narrowed in displeasure. To her surprise, he was glaring at _Ed,_ as if he thought the kid had somehow instigated this.

Riza drew herself up to her full height. She had checked with the Colonel before she had planned this, and he had said it was fine for there to be a small celebration the last day in the office. Of course, he had been much happier himself then, and she wasn't entirely sure he had been paying attention to her….

"Sir," she said, preparing to defend the Elrics and the rest of the squad, and assure him that they could still work just as productively while also having a little fun. But before she could get more than one word out, he cut across her.

"Out of uniform? During work hours? What is the meaning of this? And I don't see any of you working on the case."

"Sir," Riza said again, more firmly this time. "These sweaters aren't doing anyone any harm. As I'm sure you recall, I talked to you about this just last week, and you agreed that this would be a good stress-reliever. I can assure you, we'll continue to work on the case."

Mustang's eyes narrowed, and Riza knew even before he opened his mouth that she'd lost.

"What I said last week is irrelevant," Mustang said carefully and quietly. "The situation has changed, and we need to devote every ounce of focus to the case at hand."

Ed opened his mouth to protest, and Riza silenced him with a look. As irritable as the Colonel was, if Ed spoke out against him, the consequences would be dire.

"Colonel-"

Mustang spun on Havoc with rage in his eyes. "Silence," he snarled. Havoc's mouth shut with an audible click that would have been funny in another situation. Riza froze, but Mustang took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He glared around at the squad, as if daring any of them to contradict him.

No one did. Mustang stalked to his desk, turning briefly before he sat down to glare at the squad again. "Take those damn sweaters off," he said shortly. "I want this to be a professional atmosphere, you're all a disgrace."

Looking crushed, the team began to put their jackets back on, buttoning them up slowly. Fuery looked like he was fighting to hold back tears and losing the battle, as he cast a wounded look in the direction of Mustang's desk. Riza saw Havoc shoot him a sympathetic glance, but it was clear the second lieutenant didn't dare to speak again.

Riza let a deep breath out through her nose, aware that she was beginning to lose her temper. True, it wasn't Mustang's fault that their leave had been cut short, but his present orders seemed to spring from nothing but his own foul mood. He was upset at something, and he was taking it out on his men. And worse, on the Elrics. Ed, already disappointed by Mustang's orders to stay in East City, now looked absolutely crushed. Riza watched him sadly remove the Santa hat she'd placed on his head and came to a decision. It was past time she had a word with the Colonel.


	2. Chapter 2

Mustang stared at the files in front of him, trying to see something that he'd missed. He buried himself in his work, hoping that if he got absorbed enough he'd be able to ignore the hushed atmosphere of suppressed judgement.

His men were upset, upset with him. Mustang growled at the unfairness of the situation. It wasn't his fault their leave had been cut short…. He supposed he could have let them have their little Christmas celebration, but the way they'd all frozen when he came in, like they expected him to ruin it, had driven him past rationality. If they wanted him to be a monster, then he'd damn well be a monster. And besides, they really did need to focus.

"Colonel?"

Mustang looked up, a frown already forming on his face. His Lieutenant was standing calmly in front of him, hands folded respectfully.

"What is it?" he asked, forcing himself not to snap.

"Sir, could I have a word with you outside?"

The way she said it, with just an edge of disapproval, made the anger rise again, and he bit back his snarl of refusal. This was Riza, as much as he wanted to yell at her, she deserved better from him. He would listen to whatever she had to say, he owed her that much. He gave her a terse nod and led the way out of the office, shutting the door firmly on the poorly-concealed interest of his squad.

"Sir," Riza said, the second they had stepped outside, "with all due respect, what's gotten into you? I realize you're stressed about the case, and there's a lot of pressure being put on you, but that is no excuse to treat your men this way."

"They're being disrespectful," Mustang said, a little petulantly. "All of you are. Out of uniform during work hours? And...and I could write most of you up, for how much you're talking back to your superior officer."

Mustang saw a look of shock and something akin to hurt flash across Riza's face. She stepped forward, and while Mustang knew Riza would never touch him, there was a part of him that was honestly a little afraid she might hit him. "Why do you hate Christmas so much?" she finally burst out, and Mustang was shocked that she had raised her voice at him.

Mustang stared at her. He didn't know how to explain…. Watching his men go home to their families when he didn't have that had always hurt a little, and watching all the...the _joy_ and the _togetherness_ that the holiday season brought only reminded him of things he had lost, things he had never had. Even Hughes was so focused on his family during this part of the year, so happy and full…. It all just served to remind Mustang how empty he was, how different his reality was from what he felt it should be.

He didn't know how to explain it to Riza, but at the same time, he'd thought he genuinely didn't have to.

And there was a part of him that knew that wasn't a completely valid excuse anyways. He'd struggled with Christmas literally as long as he could remember, and he didn't ever remember being this _angry_ at everything and everyone. That, he figured, probably mostly had to be chalked up to bad luck and bad timing and many other factors outside of his control. Maybe it was those infernal Elrics, he didn't normally have to put up with this much _singing_ all Christmas….

"I don't hate Christmas," he finally snapped. "But I do hate being disrespected by my own men." He put his hand on the doorknob. The conversation was over, he was ready to go back inside.

"Sir, you're going to make Fuery cry if you go back in there acting the way you have been, you can't keep ordering them-"

Mustang felt his temper flare back up, and he turned back towards Riza. He was going to yell at her, he couldn't help it, he was just already so mad and this felt like the final straw. " _I_ can't keep ordering them? Are you sure about that? As a matter of fact, last time I checked I was their superior officer, as well as yours."

And with that, he opened the door to his office and left Riza in the hallway. Even as he shut the door behind him, he knew he'd probably crossed a line. Riza hadn't really been disrespectful, and besides, he had the sneaking suspicion that he'd earned the lecture.

He supposed he could be a _little_ nicer. His men were driving him up the wall, but he was their leader for a reason. He sighed, trying to steel himself for a civil interaction.

"Sir…?"

Mustang looked up to find Havoc lurking uncomfortably around his desk. He took a deep breath and forced himself to answer without snapping. "What is it?"

Havoc blinked in utter shock at not being yelled at, and Mustang felt a peculiar mixture of guilt and annoyance surge within him. "Havoc?" he prompted, and the second lieutenant shook himself.

"I...I just had a question about the robberies, about everything reported missing…." He explained hurriedly, clearly trying not to waste any of Mustang's time or patience.

Mustang glowered at the file Havoc had given him. Part of him wanted to yell at Havoc for asking him a stupid question, but the question had been a valid one and Mustang was trying to be _nicer_.

Havoc returned to his desk, looking slightly less distressed than before his conversation with Mustang, and Mustang returned to his files. Every so often, there would be a small sound from one of his men, and at first, everything would freeze as his squad waited to be yelled at. But Mustang didn't, he clenched his fist or gritted his teeth but he didn't say a word. And after a while, he barely noticed the sounds, and when his squad started talking quietly, as though this were a normal day, he was almost relieved. He would feel better if Riza wasn't plainly furious at him, she hadn't said a word to him since their conversation in the hallway and he was afraid he'd gone too far. But the Christmas decorations were gone, his team was wearing their uniforms, and no one was _singing._ Maybe this Christmas would be bearable after all.

* * *

Ed barely heard the cautious chatter around him as he glared at the Colonel. It had taken most of the day, but the office equilibrium had been re-established, and everyone seemed to be treating this like any other day.

Ed couldn't do it. Christmas had been one of his favorite times of the year when he and Al were young, when their mother was still alive. It had never been the same since she died, but this year, he'd remembered a little of what he felt when he was a kid. He couldn't forgive Mustang for taking that away from him. And more than that, he couldn't forgive Mustang for taking it away from _Al._ He'd been so excited to see Winry and Pinako again, to relax for a weekend without fear of being discovered and Ed...Ed hated to see him have to go without that.

Ed spent most of the rest of the day just staring blankly at the case file. He tried his best to make connections, to figure out how all the cases were linked so he could find the murderer and they could all go home early. But no matter how hard he looked, he didn't see any patterns. And having Mustang staring over his shoulder, occasionally making snarky comments or muttering under his breath, certainly didn't help anything. Finally, he sighed.

"It's five," he said. "I'm going home."

"Are you sure?" Riza said. "The rest of us are staying, to see if we can get anything else done. If we solve the case-"

"I know, I know, we'll get longer leave. But I just...I can't do it, okay? I've had a long day, and I'm just...I'm ready to go home."

Ed put his palms flat on the desk and tried to steady his breathing. He didn't want to be letting Mustang ruin Christmas, he hated allowing the Colonel that much power over him. He wanted to be home, but home was wherever his family was and he had Al right here with him….

Of course, the rest of his family wasn't with him, and there was absolutely nothing he could do about that. He sighed, abruptly feeling worse.

"That's fine, Edward," Riza said gently. "Go home. Enjoy your holiday."

Ed pushed himself out of the chair and started to leave the room, Al following behind him. His brother hadn't said anything in hours. It could be hard to tell what Al's mood was if you didn't really know him, his expression didn't show on his face, after all. But Ed had spent quite a while perfecting it, and even though Al wasn't complaining, he knew that his brother was very, very unhappy.

"Merry Christmas to everyone except Colonel Mustang," Ed said, realizing he was pushing his luck and not caring. He heard a chair scrape against the floor as Mustang rose angrily out of his seat, but Ed didn't give him time to say anything. Before Mustang had even finished standing up, Ed had slammed the door behind him, and was walking down the hallway.

"Winry?" Ed said into the phone line. The second he had stepped foot back in the hotel room, he had known he had to call the Rockbells. He had to break the news to them that he and Al wouldn't be coming home, that was the most important thing. But he also wanted Winry to help him figure out if there was some way out of this mess. Some loophole that the Colonel was abusing, or maybe some way to be in and out of Resembool on just his two days of leave….

Mostly, he didn't want to look at Al's disappointed face anymore. He had to be able to do _something_.

"Ed! Is that you?"

"Winry, um yeah-" Ed felt his voice break slightly, and he swallowed angrily. "I...I have some bad news. There's some stupid criminal running around East City, breaking into houses, and it's a military priority to stop him, and...Colonel Bastard cut my leave. I only get two days off now, tomorrow and Christmas. I'm really sorry."

Ed realized his heart was hammering, like he expected Winry to throw a wrench at him through the phone lines somehow. Not that he really thought she'd be _mad…._ He supposed he was mostly just afraid of disappointing her.

"I already knew," she said softly.

Out of all the responses that Ed had expected to hear, this was not one of them. She already knew? But how? Could she read minds now too? Winry had a lot of talents, he wouldn't necessarily be surprised. Ed frowned.

"How did you know?" he asked.

"Lieutenant Hawkeye called here today, to tell us you wouldn't be able to come home. She said she wanted us to know as soon as possible, and she wasn't sure Colonel Mustang was going to let you use the phone."

Ed shook himself slightly. It had not even occurred to him to call Winry, not until he'd gotten back to the hotel. Riza thought of everything.

"Are you...upset?" he asked, a little nervous to hear the answer. He held the phone gingerly, half-afraid she would yell or something.

"I'm sort of disappointed, yeah," she said. "I haven't see you two in so long, and…."

"I'm going to figure out a way to get back!" Ed said, resolve strengthening. He looked quickly over at Al, who was nodding his approval.

"I'll...I'll make it work somehow. Just you watch."

"Ed," Winry said quickly. "Don't worry about it, really. It's alright. And there's no way you can get back to Resembool that fast with that little notice, not during the holidays…."

Ed's hand clenched on the receiver, and he didn't reply for a few seconds.

"Ed? Are you there?"

"I'm here," Ed said, forcibly unclenching his fingers from the phone. There was a moment of silence, and he sighed. "It's just…It's not alright. You were looking forward to seeing us, Al was looking forward to being home, hell, even I was excited…."

He trailed off, feeling the anger rise all over again. "And we can't make it home because of Colonel _Bastard?_ No, we're gonna figure it out-"

"Ed," Winry said firmly. "There's no way you could make it back in time. The trains don't run on Christmas Day, you know that…. You wouldn't have any way to leave, you'd miss work the next day."

"We could hire a car," Ed said desperately, knowing she was right, but he could feel Al _looking_ at him. _He_ could handle the disappointment, but Al had been through so much, and he just wanted his little brother to have a good Christmas.

"That's expensive," Winry pointed out. "Besides, I don't think there's one available around Resembool. Really, Ed, just try to relax and enjoy your Christmas. Don't try to make it all the way out here. It'll be fine."

"It's okay, Brother," Al said softly. "Really. Maybe we can make it home next year."

Ed felt his shoulders slump in defeat, and he nodded. "Okay," he said, knowing he sounded petulant and young but unable to control his voice. "Fine."

"I'm sure we'll see each other soon. Trust me," Winry said, but Ed knew she didn't mean it. It was rare that Ed and Al could take enough time off to make it to Resembool, and now he didn't know when they'd be able to go home.

"Yeah," he mumbled, then shook himself. This wasn't Winry's fault. It was Mustang's. "Merry Christmas," he told her, trying to sound happier than he felt.

"Merry Christmas, Ed. Tell Al Merry Christmas too." And with that, she was gone. Ed hung up the phone and turned to Al, pasting a smile on his face. He hoped it didn't look as fake as it felt.

"It'll be okay," Ed said encouragingly. "We can still have a good Christmas."

Al nodded firmly. "We can," he said, sounding as though he didn't believe it any more than Ed did.

* * *

It had been quiet for a long time, Mustang thought. He put his pen down and looked up, only to find that the office was unoccupied. A glance at the clock told him it was eleven, and Eastern Command was probably completely empty save for him.

Now that he thought about it, he vaguely remembered his men leaving. But he'd been buried in his work, and he hadn't really acknowledged any of his men's mumbled wishes of good cheer. Riza had left a few hours later, but he hadn't paid her any attention either.

If he stayed at the office, working, he wouldn't have to go home. He wouldn't have to drive through the snowy streets, trying to ignore all the decorations festooning the buildings. He wouldn't have to get past his cheerful neighbors and let himself into his dark apartment that he hadn't bothered to decorate.

Two days off, every second reminding him how alone he was. No, he'd rather stay here, working on the case. That was something useful. Maybe, if he stayed late enough, he'd be able to figure something out. Without his useless team distracting him, he'd actually be able to find some clues, maybe solve the case himself and get them their leave so they would stop complaining….

But his eyes kept getting heavier, and he couldn't seem to concentrate. The words were blurring in front of him, and he had whatever stupid song Fullmetal had been humming stuck in his head. Maybe he'd just lay his head on the desk for a minute, and after a tiny bit of rest he'd be able to see some pattern he'd missed before. He just needed one more connection, and then everything would be fixed and he'd be able to go home.

He set his head down sideways on the desk, feeling the papers crinkle under his cheek. Part of him figured it would be best to just sleep here, he hated being alone in his apartment during the holiday season, it just made him feel worse about everything. But he thought spending the night in his office two days before Christmas might be a little pathetic, even for him….

Mustang peeled his eyes open. He was disoriented for a second; the light seemed to be hitting his eyes funny, and he could tell he wasn't on his bed. He sat up, brushing the papers off his face and trying to comb his hair back into place. He was in his office. He must have fallen asleep here after all. He really hadn't meant to, he had just had a long day and had been out the second he'd closed his eyes.

But all that really meant was he was out a good night of sleep and no further along on the case at all. He had planned to spend most of the night working on it, but now it was his first day off, he wasn't getting paid and he knew he really did have to go home. He hadn't solved the case, and he wasn't going to, not just looking at the files that five other pairs of eyes had already scoured over.

He groaned. He was dreading the next two days of under-stimulated loneliness in his barren apartment, days where he knew everyone else was happy. And even more than that, he was dreading the first day back, when his wounded team would just be staring at him miserably, whispering behind his back….

Goddamnit. He couldn't stand for that. He wasn't doing anything today, he could...he could keep trying to work on the case somehow, get it figured out. He could go back to the house, that was a good idea. Maybe he could find better clues, now that the details of the robberies from last year were fresh in his mind. That would be best, he figured. Going down to the crime scene would keep him from being alone in his house, and maybe he could figure everything out for his team somehow so they wouldn't keep _whining_ at him.

Sighing, he picked up his phone and dialed Riza's number. He knew she wouldn't be doing anything, she didn't have any family either, and no Christmas traditions to speak of. He was pretty sure she would be alright with helping him.

* * *

Riza blinked awake to the sound of a telephone ringing. She sat upright, rubbing sleep out of her eyes, momentarily confused. She hadn't slept through her alarm, had she? That had never happened before….

No, it was her day off. Despite that, the phone kept ringing. She blinked at it for a moment longer, then picked up.

"Hawkeye."

"Lieutenant. Do you have a moment?"

Riza's lips thinned. She alone hadn't said a word when Mustang had cut leave, but he was pushing it by waking her up on one of her two days off.

"What is it, sir?" she said, keeping her voice carefully polite.

"Do you have any plans today?" he asked abruptly.

She held back a sigh. Of course she didn't have plans, at least not plans that couldn't be shifted, rearranged, or canceled entirely. He knew that.

"What do you need?" she asked, leaving off the "sir."

"I was going to go to the crime scene," Mustang said. "Go over it one last time, see if I could get something to help me solve this damn case…." He trailed off, the last part of his words lost in a yawn.

Riza told herself that she didn't have to mention it, but years of watching Mustang's back and keeping him alive took over, and she unbent a little.

"You sound exhausted," she said carefully.

"Mmm," Mustang responded noncommittally, and she sighed.

"Sir-"

"I'll be fine," he said, speaking over her. "I would like to solve this case, the sooner the better."

He didn't add anything else, and he didn't have to. If they solved the case now, today, then there wouldn't be any reason for the squad's leave to be canceled. Riza could give up her Christmas Eve to try to get the rest of the team home.

"What do you need me to do, sir?" she asked, and there was a small noise of relief from the other end.

"I'm going to the crime scene, would you be able to meet me there?"

"It may take me a little while to get there," Riza answered, and then, unable to resist, added "I just woke up."

There was silence. Mustang didn't apologize (she'd known he wouldn't), but he at least sounded vaguely ashamed as he told her he'd meet her at the house. With a click, the phone line disconnected.


	3. Chapter 3

There was a very small part of Mustang that felt bad for waking Riza. Most of him was still annoyed, not at her, exactly, but just at the world in general, for some reason that he couldn't quite place. That part of him kept him from feeling too bad for waking her, after all, he was her superior officer, and it was her job to do the things that he needed from her. And right now, he needed her to help him with solving this case. This was for Amestris, and for the rest of the squad, and that was certainly more important than...whatever the hell she did on her days off.

It didn't take him very long to get to the house, as he was already in his uniform and it wasn't a very far drive from Headquarters. He parked on the street, looking around cautiously. Yesterday, there had been Military Police scattered around, making sure no civilians got caught up in the crime scene itself, but today the whole area was startlingly empty. It suddenly occurred to Mustang that he himself wasn't really supposed to be here, not when he was technically off-duty. If anyone caught him, he could get in trouble, although he was sure if he actually ended up finding out anything useful they would overlook it.

Should he wait for Riza to arrive? No, he didn't feel confident in his ability to make small talk with her, not without snapping. It would be better if he just went inside now and started the investigation on his own. She could just jump into helping him when she arrived.

He got out of the car and hissed with displeasure at the unpleasant mix of snow and slush falling around him. The house was fairly close, but the cordon around it had necessitated his parking further away than he'd have liked. He'd be soaked by the time he made it inside. Annoyed, he ducked under the police tape and entered the silent house.

The Christmas decorations were all still in place, marred only by the pools of dried blood. Mustang knew he had looked over the information of the family that had been killed here before arriving on the scene yesterday, but now he couldn't seem to remember anything about them. He wasn't even completely sure if it had been a family of four or three. All he knew for sure was that there had been no survivors, that everyone in the house had died.

For a split second, Mustang felt his own life snap into perspective. Sure, he hated Christmas because all his Christmases had sucked, because he always spent them alone. But at least he and his whole family hadn't been murdered on Christmas, that was certainly much worse. And his problems with his squad aside, he really did want to try to prevent that from happening to anyone else. There was no need for any more lives to be ruined.

Trying his best to ignore his wet clothes, he began looking through the downstairs. He wasn't entirely sure what he was looking for, if he was going to be honest. He had been vaguely hoping that something would jump out at him, but he didn't know what that would even look like. This wasn't his job, this was what Hughes was good at, not him. Setting a crime scene on fire wouldn't solve anything, nor would maneuvering for political power. Those were pretty much his talents, and they didn't do anything to help him here.

Annoyed with himself and the situation, Mustang abandoned his search of the living room and headed for the stairs. Maybe the family's bedrooms would tell him something, something they hadn't told him the first time he'd looked through them. It was worth a try.

Mustang climbed the stairs, pausing at the top to look at a family picture that had caught his eye. There had been four in the family, as it turned out, all smiling at the camera and dressed for some past Christmas. The parents held the two children close, and Mustang felt a familiar wrench of longing, immediately followed by a rush of guilt. He promised himself that he'd catch this guy, that he'd stop this from happening to any more families.

The family stared up at him happily, forever smiling and perfect and _dead_. He frowned, suddenly sure he'd heard footsteps.

But by the time he looked up, he was already falling.

Mustang crashed down the stairs, trying desperately to reach out and stop himself but not finding any purchase. His heart pounded wildly, adrenaline filling his blood, and he almost didn't notice the pain as the edges of the stairs bit into his ribs, the sharp crack and the sickening pain in his arm as he landed wrong at the bottom of the stairs.

He lay there for a few seconds trying to force his lungs to work, gasping like a fish out of water and feeling every painful inhale in his (probably broken) ribs. As soon as he could, he was moving, grimly pushing the throbbing pain in his left arm to the back of his mind where he could deal with it later.

The man who'd pushed him was almost down the stairs by now, and he had to be the killer. Who else would be lurking at a murder scene, waiting to push military personnel down the stairs?

Which meant that Mustang could end this here. He couldn't use his gloves, the damn snow had seen to that, but he still had his gun. He yanked it out of the holster, but the few seconds gasping breathlessly on the floor had given the killer the advantage he needed and he closed in fast, shooting a knee into Mustang's damaged ribs and knocking the gun away.

Mustang forced himself to breathe and punched the criminal in the face as his gun skidded across the floor. The man didn't seem to have a weapon, which meant Mustang still had a chance to win this. He was injured, but he'd also been trained. He could win this, he was sure of it, if only he could get his head to stop spinning….

The man seemed to realize that Mustang was favoring his left arm, because all of a sudden Mustang felt a hand on his wrist. His arm was wrenched sideways. Mustang cried out, he couldn't help it. He felt his wrist being dragged backwards, the man guiding him carefully to his knees.

But instead of resisting him, Mustang allowed his body to go with the momentum. As soon as he was low enough, he kicked one leg out, tangling it in the killer's. The man fell backwards, yanking Mustang down with him. A surprised scream tore its way from Mustang's throat, the pain in his arm so intense he saw stars. But the killer had been startled enough by Mustang's sudden movement that he let go of Mustang's wrist, which was all that Mustang had really wanted. He flipped himself over and scrambled backwards, still on the ground.

The man lunged towards Mustang again, shoving him backwards. Mustang yelped as his damaged ribs and arm smacked into hardwood. For a split second, he was worried he was going to pass out. He blinked frantically to clear the spots from his vision, gasping desperately for air.

Hands closed around his throat.

Mustang tried to reorient himself so he could figure out what to do. The man was straddling him, keeping him from struggling too much. His right arm was pinned down by a knee. His left hand was all but useless, even if he had a full range of motion there was no way he had the strength to do anything. And he was running out of time.

Mustang began to squirm frantically, trying to dislodge the man. The movement tore at his injured ribs.

"I'm...military, you...don't want to kill me-" he gasped, words barely making it past his damaged, aching throat.

The man removed his hands from Mustang's throat, and Mustang desperately sucked in air. Had that...actually worked, somehow? He wasn't going to let Mustang go, was he?

And then there were two hands on the side of his face, and he was slamming Mustang's head back into the floor. The world darkened around him. He moaned.

"Step away from him," a cold, familiar voice said. "Now."

Mustang turned his head dizzily to the side, and sure enough, there she was. Riza. Calmly leveling a gun at the killer, fire in her eyes.

"Lieutenant," he whispered, voice ragged. "You...came…."

And then he felt something cold at the base of his throat, and as he moved his head he felt something sharp dig into his skin. The man shifted slightly, and Mustang heard a slight hiss from Riza. He moved his head again, confused, and his brain finally kicked into gear at the feeling of something trickling down his neck. The killer had a knife, pointed at his throat.

"Are you fast enough to shoot me before he bleeds out on the floor?" the criminal asked, and Mustang thought dizzily that Riza probably was, only she'd never risk it. Sure enough, there was silence.

"That's what I thought. Put the gun down slowly, and kick it away."

Riza took one of her hands off her gun and began sinking to the floor. Mustang shook his head weakly, knowing she could probably make the shot, but the killer dug the knife into his skin and he stopped.

Riza set the gun on the floor and made to rise, but the knife pricked Mustang's throat and he saw her freeze.

"And the others," the killer said impatiently. "On the floor."

Riza's eyes narrowed, and she removed two guns from her shoulder holsters and set them down too. Then, she slowly rose to her feet, and as the killer nodded, kicked them away across the room.

Mustang felt the hands against his neck relax slightly as the guns left Riza's reach, and he seized his chance. His head rocketed back into the killer's face, and the knife left his neck entirely. Mustang wrenched sideways and rolled away, forcing himself to his feet even as his ribs and wrist screamed at him to stay down. He faced the killer, trying to seem menacing. And behind him, Riza was already moving.

She darted past them, running for her gun where it had skidded into the corner of the room. The killer turned after her, knife in hand, and Mustang felt his stomach lurch. With a burst of speed he hadn't known he was capable of, not in this state, he leapt forward and snagged the criminal's ankle.

The man fell to the floor with a grunt, and Mustang was on top of him before he had a chance to recover, grabbing his knife hand and forcing it back. All he had to do was keep the killer occupied long enough for Riza to reach her gun, and it would all be over.

The killer struggled, and Mustang hung on like grim death, trying to work his knees over the man's arms and keep him pinned. His left wrist was essentially useless at this point. Even the slightest pressure on it made him cry out with pain, but he did not let go.

"Colonel!" he heard Riza yell, but he wasn't even sure what it pertained to. All he knew was that she sounded afraid. He tried to call out to her, to tell her he was alright, but he didn't have the breath.

The killer twisted under Mustang and drove his knee into his stomach. Mustang felt himself collapse backwards to the floor.

Mustang had gotten in his fair share of fights. He was no stranger to being kneed, it was always shocking, it always hurt. It always made him feel like he was going to either pass out or throw up.

But this...this was different. When the man kneed Mustang in the stomach, he'd felt something _shift._ He'd felt his ribs crunch and his insides had seemed to rearrange themselves….

Mustang swallowed, and tasted copper. He fought the urge to vomit. He thought that moving enough for that might kill him. He looked quickly down at his uniform, sure he was going to see blood. He felt like he was being torn apart.

But he didn't have time to overthink it, or even to try to catch his breath. Before he had time to think, he was lunging at the man again, trying to buy Riza just a little more time. She had to be close, and then she would stop this, she would protect him….

There was a sharp pain in his leg, but he didn't even really feel it. There was too much adrenaline coursing through him at this point, erasing everything but his shaking limbs and frantic breathing.

He shoved his right forearm up under the killer's chin, cutting off his windpipe. His pulse pounded in his ears, and he fought to stay conscious. The killer squirmed under him, and Mustang pushed down harder. His adversary's face was turning red, but Mustang wasn't sure how much longer he was going to be able to stay upright.

Maybe Riza had left him here. He had been...horrible to her yesterday, and now he'd taken her day off. What if she was gone? What if he'd just left him here to die? Mustang felt his throat constrict.

And then there was a hand on his shoulder. "Colonel, back up," he heard Riza say. "You've done enough."  
He looked up at her. She had the gun in her hand again, and was pointing it calmly at the killer's face. "Don't you move a muscle," she said, speaking to the killer this time.

"Lieutenant…" Mustang started, then trailed off. Now that Riza was here, the world was starting to swirl around him a little. He shot a quick glance downward, still not moving his arm. This time, he did see blood. His head swam.

"Colonel, move back," she said evenly. She pushed on his shoulder a little bit. He scrambled backwards a few feet, and felt Riza move in front of him, standing over the killer.

"Lieutenant," he tried again, still not even exactly sure what he was trying to say. He just knew that he needed help, he needed her here.

He slipped sideways and felt his cheek hit the hardwood floor. He saw the blurry figure of Riza, still standing calmly. He heard a gunshot.

And then the world went grey.

* * *

Riza heard the sickening smack of Mustang's face hitting the floor and whirled around almost before she pulled the trigger.

"Colonel! Sir, can you hear me?" She ran to him and cursed as she almost slipped in the blood that was spreading in a pool around his prone form. The killer's knife was sticking out of Mustang's leg, and Riza remembered that placement from classes in the Academy. If she removed it, he'd die within minutes. Even as it was, he was losing blood dangerously quickly.

Riza unbuckled her belt, automatically checking the time as she did so. 11:34, she noted mechanically, and wrapped the belt around Mustang's leg.

"Colonel," she said again as she pulled the tourniquet tight, tight enough to slow the bleeding to a trickle.

His eyes fluttered, and he looked up at her. She breathed a sigh of relief and forced a smile.

"You'll be fine, sir," she told him. "I'm going to call an ambulance, I need you to wait here-"

"I...I think-" Mustang broke off with a cough, and Riza watched in horror as blood spilled over his lips and down the side of his cheek. He brought his right hand up to his face and examined his fingers dazedly, as though he was shocked to find them bloody.

He opened his mouth, ostensibly to speak again, but all that came out was another mouthful of blood.

"Don't try to say _anything_ ," Riza said sharply. "Stay here and don't move." Without saying another word, she ran for the phone as fast as she could.

She called the paramedics, explained the situation, and received their ETA all with the same dull panic throbbing in her chest. It was there, lurking until she could deal with it.

But that would have to wait. As soon as the call was complete, she hung up and ran back to Mustang.

He was still lying where she'd left him (had to leave him, it's not like she wanted to), right hand curled protectively around his abdomen. His left arm was lying slightly crooked next to him, and Riza would have worried about the obvious break if that hadn't clearly been the least of their problems.

She sunk to her knees next to him, her heart wrenching at how his eyelids were fluttering in his too pale face, how his mouth was twisted in a grimace of pain.

"Sir?" she said softly, and his eyes slid open just the barest fraction. They were focused on her, but she had no idea how aware he was of her presence. His face was so pale that it almost looked like he was in danger of freezing to death. It made his eyes look stark.

"L-lieutenant?" he whispered, voice trembling a little. "I-"

"Don't talk," she said firmly. "Just nod or shake your head. Can you understand me?"

He nodded weakly, eyes already starting to drift closed again.

"No, sir, don't fall asleep," Riza said, resisting the urge to take his shoulders and shake him. Her heart hammered in her chest as she tried to figure out what to do. He was lying in a pool of blood, so much that both of their hands were slick with it, his whole side soaked in red. But she had seen men lose more blood than this in Ishval and survive it. And that bleeding at least seemed to be under control, the tourniquet had slowed it to a trickle. Of course, now he was at risk of losing the leg, but that was the least of her problems, that was better than him losing his life.

The mouthfuls of blood he was bringing up, the ginger way he was holding his middle...that was more concerning to her now. He appeared to be in enough pain that at first she was worried about a stab wound or a bullet hole, but there wasn't enough blood on his uniform for that. Which must mean there was something internal, although she wasn't sure how it had even happened. All she knew was that it was a very, very bad sign.

She had seen soldiers survive in Ishval when their veins had been sliced open, when they were bleeding so heavily their heart rates could be measured by the pulse of the blood. She had seen soldiers survive in Ishval when their organs had been pulverized, when they were vomiting up so much blood she hadn't been sure how they had had any left.

Stab wounds were survivable, internal bleeding was survivable.

But she wasn't sure they both were together.

"Colonel, you have to stay awake. Do you understand that?"

He nodded again, and his eyes opened the smallest fraction.

"Did you...did he hit you in the stomach?" she asked, still trying to figure out what could even cause this much bleeding in the first place.

"Pushed...down...stairs…." he forced out. Riza felt her throat tighten.

Even just three words was enough to start his chest spasming again. He writhed weakly on the ground as his insides clenched and more blood bubbled out of his mouth.

"Sir, I'm going to turn you on your side," Riza said frantically, suddenly terrified that he was going to choke. "It...it'll hurt, alright? But I have to do it."

Blood coated the side of his face. He made a small motion, but Riza couldn't tell if it was a nod or just an involuntary jerk. She had no idea if he could hear her anymore.

She grabbed his shoulders tightly. She felt her own chest constrict in sympathy, she knew she was about to cause him quite a lot of pain and there was nothing that she could do about it. But she didn't let herself think about it too much, she just twisted him over so the blood could drain out of his mouth.

She'd known she was going to hurt him, but she hadn't realized quite how much. As soon as she shifted him, he made an inhuman moan of pain, a sound so desolate and helpless that she really couldn't conceptualize that fact that it had come out of the Colonel.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she hissed, rubbing his back gently as he continued to bring up blood. "I had to do it, Colonel, I'm sorry…."

Mustang moaned softly as blood trickled down his cheek onto the wooden floor. He blinked up at her slowly, and she could see it as he struggled to force himself to speak.

"No, stay quiet, sir," she told him, moving her hand to his shoulder. "Please, don't try to talk. I'm here."

Mustang turned his head to the side again, and more blood leaked out of his mouth. Riza swallowed hard, trying to force back the despair filling her. The ambulance was coming, she reminded herself. If he could just make it that long….

Mustang moaned again, blinking fitfully. He was horribly pale now, with a tinge of bluish-grey that worried her. His breaths were shallow, as if he were afraid to expand his chest too much and hurt himself further. As Riza watched, his breath seemed to get shorter, and she felt her hand tighten on his shoulder.

She forced her fingers to unclench, not wanting to hurt him any more, and moved her hand to his head. His skin was clammy and unnaturally cold; he was starting to go into shock.

"Hang on, Colonel," Riza told him, and quickly removed her jacket. What she really wanted to do was wrap him in a blanket and hold him until he regained some body heat, but she knew she couldn't move him. She'd have to settle for draping her jacket over him as he shuddered weakly on the floor.

"I'm sorry, sir," she said softly as she tucked the jacket around him. "Please, just stay with me."

Mustang rocked his head a little on the hard floor, groaning slightly as he tried to find Riza. She frowned, worried that he would hurt himself, an absurd fear when she looked at the amount of blood on the floor, on his uniform, even in his hair. But still, she didn't want Mustang to be any more uncomfortable than he had to be.

As gently as she could, she lifted his head and moved it into her lap. He'd be warmer this way, too, with his head removed from the cold floor.

Mustang coughed weakly, spattering blood over her pants. Her breath caught, and she stroked his head miserably.

"Just keep breathing, Colonel," she said, hoping he could hear her. "There's so much you have left to do, you can't stop now…."

The only response she got was another cough from Mustang, adding to the puddle of blood collecting beneath her knee. She tucked the jacket tighter around him, wishing there was more that she could do.

"Hurts…" he whimpered. He squirmed slightly, trying to bring his knees up to his chest, but he was too weak and his left leg where the knife was embedded was all but useless.

"Stay still, stay still," Riza whispered, stroking his bloody hair off of his forehead. "You'll be okay, it's just a little longer-"

He groaned again, eyes starting to slip closed. Riza reached forward and grabbed his right wrist, the uninjured one. She fumbled for a pulse, wishing everything was a little less coated in blood. She found his heartbeat, but it was weak and erratic, going way too fast. He had lost too much blood, his heart was struggling to keep his body going. He didn't have much more time.

"Colonel, please-" she begged him, chest twisting as his glassy eyes struggled to focus on her. "Just stay awake a few more minutes."  
But part of her knew all the begging in the world wasn't going to do any good, not when his body decided it didn't have enough blood left inside, when his heart finally lost the battle.

Riza didn't really believe in crying, not when there were still things to be done. Tears didn't solve any problems, actions did, and Riza was someone who liked to solve problems. She could count on her fingers all the times she had really cried since getting back from Ishval. All of them had been alone.

But now, Mustang's pulse was fluttering weakly beneath her fingers, his blood was soaking her pants, his eyes had slipped closed and she genuinely wasn't sure if she was ever going to see them open again.

Her throat tightened, and she realized there was something hot and wet on her face. She was crying over the stupid Colonel, and as much as she squeezed her eyes tight and bit into her lip she couldn't get herself to stop. He was dying, he was dying, and there was nothing that she could do but sit here and wait.

A single tear hit his pale, still cheek, and he didn't react. She wanted to wipe her face off, but she knew it would be useless at this point. Her hands were coated in the Colonel's blood, touching her face would just end up getting it everywhere.

So she just let herself cry helplessly as she kept his limp body cradled on her lap. She held his undamaged right hand in hers, and if he had a pulse it was now so faint that she couldn't even feel it anymore. And like that, she waited.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N-** Hope you guys are enjoying so far. There are going to be two more chapters after this one, posted on the 23rd and the 24th, so keep your eyes out!

* * *

Mustang was aware of pain, and he was aware of Riza's voice. The pain was bigger in his mind. It was all through him, so all consuming that he wasn't even sure exactly what was injured anymore, just that something was. He also knew he was afraid, and that felt sort of like pain too. He could feel each one of his heartbeats.

And under that was Riza's voice. He couldn't really make out any specific words. But he knew it was her. Her voice was like a thread tying him down to reality. Without her speaking he was sure he would already be gone.

"Just a little longer, sir-"

The words faded back into incomprehensibility. He tried to respond to her. He wanted to tell her that he was trying, that he wasn't sure how much longer he could last but he was trying. But when he opened his mouth all he tasted was salt, and he couldn't seem to speak around it.

He felt Riza's feather-light touch at his temple, brushing his hair back. It helped ground him a little bit. But it didn't make staying awake any easier.

Mustang felt himself slipping into blackness. Everything hurt, and he could feel something in his gut tear every time he breathed. It would be so much easier to let go….

But Riza's voice filtered through from above, and he couldn't understand what she was saying but he knew she sounded worried. As much as he wanted to, he couldn't close his eyes just yet.

He forced his heavy lids up and stared blearily at nothing, trying not to breathe too deeply. Then, something caught and he was coughing weakly, the sharp coppery taste of blood filling his mouth and nose and the pain was unbelievable.

Mustang heard a sharp whimper and, after a few moments, connected it with him. He thought about stopping, but it didn't really seem to matter anymore. Nothing except the pain mattered.

His leg was numb. He thought he remembered it hurting, but now, he couldn't feel it at all. Was it still there? Was he still there?

The pain in his chest and stomach and abdomen hit again and Mustang moaned, slamming back into reality as he fought for breath through the agony. He felt a soft hand stroking his forehead, and that helped, it helped anchor him to the here and now.

He wanted to stay, he had to remind himself. The pain was all-encompassing, and it would be so much easier to give in to it. Then, he wouldn't have to lie here in his own blood, silently screaming with the pain because he didn't have the strength to yell aloud.

But Mustang knew if he gave in now, he might not ever wake up again, and that couldn't happen.

He heard more voices above him now, Riza and others he didn't recognize. Then, hands were on him, not Riza's, gentle but not as gentle as hers, and they were moving him.

Mustang tried to tell them to stop as his damaged body protested with a sharp burst, but all that came out was an inarticulate whimper. The pain spiked, and Mustang felt his breath catch. He opened his mouth, but his lungs wouldn't expand around the tearing sensation in his gut. Instead of the air he needed, blood filled his mouth and he coughed it out as the pain worsened.

He had to stay awake. He had to hold on.

Mustang forced his eyes back open, realizing that they'd fallen shut at some point. He blinked once, twice, and then blackness bloomed around him.

* * *

Riza had been so caught up in Mustang that she had barely registered the ambulance arriving. But then there had been paramedics everywhere, lifting the Colonel off of her and laying him on the floor, checking his pulse, asking her questions that she answered numbly, barely able to process anything that was going on around her.

Riza was not sentimental, in the sense that she knew it would be best if she kept her distance and let the paramedics do their work. As much as she wanted to keep Mustang's head cradled on her lap, to keep stroking his hair and whispering things to calm him down, she knew that at this point the paramedics could help him and she could not, and the most important thing she could do was to give them space.

Riza knew all this, but when his hand was wrenched from hers his fingers twitched a little, and suddenly staying away from him felt like the hardest thing she had ever done.

They forced him flat on the ground, and he cried out involuntarily, twisting away from them. It was all Riza could do not to cry out too. They were hurting him, and she knew they had to do it, that it was the only way to save his life. But still, all she wanted to do was to take that pain away from him. She curled her hands into fists, her nails making little crescents in her palms.

"Ma'am." Riza felt a hand on her shoulder and she whirled around, looking into the eyes of one of the medics. "Did you put the tourniquet on him?"

"Yes," she said, voice fumbling as she tried to justify herself. "He was bleeding really badly, I think the knife hit one of his veins and it was the only thing I could think of to do…."

"You did the right thing," he said gently. "You probably saved his life. But do you know when the tourniquet went on? So we know how much time we have before he loses the leg."

 _Before he loses the leg._ Riza swallowed hard. She should be worried about him losing his life, that was much more of a concern, but she hated the idea of him ending up permanently crippled because of something she had done….

"11:34," she said. She knew enough to have noted the time when she applied the tourniquet, but not enough to know how long the paramedics had to save the leg.

"11:34!" the medic called out, and she watched as another one of the paramedics brushed Mustang's bangs back from his face, dipped her fingers in the puddle of Mustang's blood, and wrote the 1134 on his forehead. Riza felt her stomach clench. Mustang didn't react to the fact that they were writing on him in his own blood. His eyes were closed now and she couldn't tell if he was breathing.

The paramedics shifted Mustang onto a stretcher, and he exhaled in pain, too weak even to groan. Riza followed as they lifted him, unable to stop herself from reaching out to grasp his limp hand.

The paramedics didn't tell her to let go, and she squeezed his fingers, hoping to convey something in the gesture, that he wasn't alone, that she would stay with him as long as she needed to.

She felt a slight pressure on her fingers as the paramedics loaded Mustang into the ambulance, and then she had to release his hand as they clustered around him. She felt the tenuous grasp he had on her falter, then fail, and she bit down on her lip to try to keep herself under control. She had to let the paramedics do their job, otherwise there would be no saving Mustang.

But letting go was hard, especially when she could see his head moving ever so slightly, his eyelids fluttering as he searched for her. His fingers spasmed weakly, and she couldn't be sure if he was wondering where her hand had gone, he might not even be conscious enough for that, but she hated the very idea. If the Colonel wanted her, she needed to be by his side.

"We need to go," one of the paramedics said to the driver, his disposable gloves stained with Mustang's blood.

"Can I ride with him?" Riza burst out, not realizing what she intended to say until the words were out of her mouth. She waited, heart in her mouth, unsure what she would do if they refused. She didn't think she could get back in the car and drive to the hospital alone, not knowing what she would find upon her arrival. She had to stay with Mustang. She had to be there in case anything happened, in case he needed her next to him….

But the paramedics were nodding, and she climbed into the back of the ambulance and sat numbly by her Colonel's side. As the ambulance pulled away, she watched his face intently, willing his next breath to come, willing him to stay alive.

* * *

"Colonel, you're going to be alright."

Mustang tried to blink, but his eyelids felt impossibly heavy and he couldn't move them. He could hear voices, but couldn't make them out, and he had a vague memory of Riza being with him but he wasn't sure if he had imagined it.

"Try to keep him awake, we're nearly there."

Mustang felt the darkness behind his eyelids deepen, and the world seemed to shift slightly. There was something over his face now, and he wanted to take it off but he couldn't move at all.

Mustang willed himself to react and managed one small twitch of his finger. Nothing else responded, and he felt his heartbeat quicken. He lay there and wondered idly why, but he couldn't get it to stop and he wasn't sure why he should be worried about it in the first place.

"His heartbeat is rapid, he's panicked. It's just oxygen, try to let him know he's okay."

A hand, pressure on his forehead. Someone was stroking his hair back from his eyes, and he could hear them murmuring faintly. He felt his heartbeat slow slightly, body responding to the words his mind couldn't decode.

The blackness surged forward again and he was gone.

When he came back, there was pain. He didn't know where it came from, his entire body hurt, like every nerve had been snapped and someone was yanking on every frayed edge at once. He cried out, but there was _still_ something over his face. He didn't think anyone could hear him.

He jerked his hand slightly. There was a sharp pain in his elbow and he felt the tug of wires on his arm. He tried to move more, to roll away, to escape. He didn't understand what was happening to him. He didn't know what was in his arm, but he knew he wanted it _out._ His shoulder twitched again.

"He'll pull the IV out!" someone above him said. He didn't understand what the words meant, but the tone of voice scared him. He flinched away from it, muscles tensing, heart starting to pound again.

"Hold him down!" someone else yelled. He still couldn't tell what was happening. But the volume suggested danger and he was afraid.

Then there were hands on his shoulders. At first he fought weakly against them, but then he heard Riza's voice above him, soothing and low. His body relaxed incrementally. He opened his eyes quickly, trying to get a glimpse of her, but his vision was blurry and all he saw was an outline. His hand twitched again, and her hand slid down to grab it.

"Hold on sir, hold on, we're almost there, don't fall asleep just yet, don't worry, don't worry you're safe, I've got you, I'm here sir…."

Her voice became a low, constant thrum, and he drifted back into blackness.

He was awake, and his body was being lifted, and Riza's hand was torn from his. He could hear her yelling, or at least sounding frightened, and he wanted to tell her that he was alright but there was still something on his face and he wasn't really sure that it was true anyways.

Then there were bright fluorescent lights above him, and opening his eyes for even a second hurt. There were people around him yelling, and he hated it, he wanted to tell them to be quiet so he could rest again. Then he remembered he wasn't supposed to be resting, and he tried again to move but this time it didn't work at all.

He thought he heard Riza's voice somewhere, but it was far away now, and he couldn't be sure.

Everything felt far away. Everything felt like he was underwater. Maybe he was underwater. He took an experimental breath. He could breathe, sort of, but there was something liquid in his throat and it made him cough and that made him feel like he might die.

Where was Riza? Where had they taken her? Was she still with him? He had a vague memory of her telling him that she was here, but he thought that that had been a while ago and now she wasn't here anymore and he wasn't sure where she was, he wasn't sure where he was.

He thought he might die, and Riza was the only person who could protect him from that but she was gone and he was alone.

He hadn't realized he had been moving until he stopped. He felt himself being lifted again. Everything hurt, and he was still choking. His heart thudded in his chest.

"He's going in for surgery now," he heard someone say, far away.

And then, closer, "Sedate him."

He felt a sharp prick in his arm, and instantly, the pain started to go soft around the edges. He tried his best to fight it, he remembered Riza asking him to stay awake and he didn't want to let her down. But he couldn't resist, not for long.

Finally, mercifully, he slipped into the true blackness of sleep.

* * *

Ed sat in front of his now-cold dinner and glowered at the congealing stew. After poking at it for a few seconds, he gave up and pushed it violently across the table. The cold liquid splashed up, out of the bowl, startling Al. His brother looked up sharply as Ed slammed his fist down on the table.

"It's just so fucking UNFAIR!" Ed burst out, ignoring the startled looks of other diners. "I know he can't help it, or it's an order, or some other bullshit excuse, but he didn't have to be such a goddamn bastard about it!"

Al made a slightly disapproving noise, but Ed ignored it. "I don't care," he informed his brother. "He _is_ a bastard. I don't know why he wants to ruin Christmas so bad, but congratulations to him, he did it."

"He's just doing his job," Al said reasonably, but he didn't sound particularly convinced.

"Don't defend him," Ed snapped. "You don't want to and he doesn't deserve it anyway. I can't believe I have to go back two days from now and deal with that asshole and act like everything is _fine_."

"He could have been nicer," Al admitted, sounding a little uncomfortable.

"He could always be nicer," Ed said bitterly. "But he won't. He's a jerk. I wish he hadn't been the one who recruited us. I never wanna see him again."

"Brother…." Al said, at a loss.

"I know," Ed said grudgingly. "No matter what I want, he isn't going anywhere and I just have to deal with it. But I'm just so fucking sick of him."

"Maybe it'll be better after Christmas," Al offered hopefully.

"Maybe," Ed muttered, staring at his rejected stew. He crossed his arms and slumped forward onto them, resolving to stay there for the foreseeable future.

Al must have decided to leave him alone, because he had been undisturbed for a few minutes by the time he heard footsteps approaching.

"Mr. Elric?" said an official-sounding voice. Ed didn't budge.

"Ed," Al said gently, and Ed groaned and sat up reluctantly.

"What is it?" he asked, sure that he was going to get a pointed question about his bill, or his room, or even where his parents were, again.

"Telephone call for you. A Lieutenant Hawkeye. She says it's important."

Ed frowned, wondering why the lieutenant would be calling him. For a second, he felt a brief flash of hope. Maybe she was calling to tell him that there'd been a breakthrough on the case, maybe they could get this figured out after all.

But more likely, she was just telling him that Mustang had decided that they needed his help as soon as possible and had found some sort of loophole that would force him to work on Christmas Day.

"Bastard," Ed muttered under his breath, and stood up to take the call. He followed the waiter to the telephone, taking the receiver from him and waiting until he left the room.

"Lieutenant Hawkeye?"

"Edward." Her voice sounded a little shaky, and Ed felt a strange discomfort. He'd never heard the lieutenant sound anything but calm and collected.

"What...what is it?" He was trying to keep the fear out of his own voice. Hearing Riza sound afraid unsettled him more than he cared to admit.

"Brother, what's going on?" Al said from behind him, picking up on Ed's tone of voice. But Ed silenced him with a frantic hand gesture. He needed to hear what the lieutenant was saying.

"Ed, I don't quite know how to tell you this-" she broke off suddenly, and Ed felt his breath catch in his throat. His heart was pounding so hard that it hurt and he was a little afraid he might be sick. Riza was one of the strongest people he knew, what could possibly make her sound this afraid?

"You're scaring me," Ed said, a little ashamed at how small his voice sounded.

"There's been...an accident," she finally said slowly. "Involving the Colonel."

"But he's alright?" He had to be alright. Ed hadn't had time to punch him in his dumb face yet. He couldn't be...he couldn't be….

Riza let out a shaky sigh. "He's alive. At...at least for now. He's in the hospital. He just went into surgery. It's...they're doing everything they can for him, but it's not looking good."  
To Ed's shock and horror, he felt his throat start to get tight and his eyes start to get hot. He blinked furiously, trying to clear the blurry film of tears away. Just ten minutes ago, he had wanted the Colonel dead. Hell, he had wanted to kill the Colonel himself. But it wasn't like he had _really_ wanted it. Mustang wasn't supposed to be _dying,_ he was supposed to be sitting smugly in his office, making snarky comments and cancelling everyone's fun. That was where he was supposed to be, that was where Ed _needed_ him….

"Should I come to the hospital?" Ed said finally. "Is it...is it that serious?"  
"It may end up being your last chance to say goodbye to him, if that's something you want-"

"I'll be there in twenty," Ed said. He heard Riza start to respond, but he didn't think he could talk to her anymore. He slammed the receiver back down.

"Brother, what's happening?" Al said, and his voice was also afraid, and that made Ed's chest feel even tighter. "Is someone hurt? We need to go to the hospital?"

"It's Colonel Bastard," Ed said. As soon as the words left him, his eyes widened and he clapped a hand over his mouth. He hadn't meant to say that, not when the man could be _dying_ , but it had just slipped out. Ed swallowed hard, suddenly fighting not to break down sobbing, and winced slightly when his throat made a small, involuntary noise of guilt and pain. "No, I meant...I meant Colonel Mustang. Colonel Mustang's hurt, Al, he might even be dying…."

"Dying?" Al asked, voice suddenly small. Ed felt another wrench and blinked back more involuntary tears.

"We have to go to the hospital," Ed said gruffly. "To say...say goodbye." His voice broke slightly, and he turned away. He couldn't conceptualize the idea that the Colonel could be dying. However much he disliked the man, Mustang had been a constant in his life, one of the few Ed had had in a long time. He couldn't think about him being gone.

Al made a small distressed sound and followed Ed out of the hotel. Ed hurried towards the hospital, this time not even noticing the Christmas decorations. For the first time in weeks, he thought of the Colonel with nothing but worry. He had to make it in time.


	5. Chapter 5

Riza sat numbly in the waiting room, trying not to think about why she was there. Havoc, Breda, Fuery and Falman had trickled in a few minutes ago, looking shell-shocked and speaking in hushed voices. Ed was on his way, presumably with Alphonse in tow. She had tried to call Hughes, but he'd sounded dazed, as though he hadn't understood what was going on. He'd hung up before she could clarify, and she hadn't been able to get him back.

And that was it. Those were all the people she needed to contact, everyone who would be deeply affected by Mustang…she couldn't finish the thought. She'd done all she could, and now there was nothing left but to wait.

She wished that there was something more to do. She hated sitting here, waiting for news that she knew couldn't be good. She wanted to be doing something that would allow her to stop thinking, but she was sitting here in shock while the squad clustered around her, requiring comfort she couldn't give them.

Fuery whimpered slightly from out of her field of view, and she turned to see tears streaking silently down his face. She wanted to reassure him, but for the first time that she could remember she couldn't find the words to say.

"It'll be okay," she heard, and for a half-crazed moment she wondered if she'd spoken without realizing it. But then, she realized that Havoc was standing with them, his hand on Fuery's shoulder.

"He'll make it," he continued. "He's a fighter. Not just anybody can take out our Colonel…." He broke off, looking ashamed, swallowing through the same lump that Riza could feel lodged in her own throat.

She smiled weakly at Havoc, thankful for the second lieutenant's presence. She pulled herself together enough to look Fuery in the eye, keeping her voice carefully level.

"Havoc's right, Kain. The doctors are doing the best they can. At this point, we just have to trust that the Colonel will fight with all the strength he has."

Fuery nodded gratefully as he took off his glasses and wiped at his eyes. Behind him, Falman swallowed heavily, and Havoc and Breda's eyes were shiny with unshed tears. Riza guessed that she looked the same, and she glanced away from the worried faces of Mustang's men.

She heard footsteps at the door and turned. Ed hovered at the waiting room entrance, looking small and scared and very young. Al was behind him, lurking uncertainly. Riza took a deep breath, steeling herself to deal with the children.

Ed's eyes locked on hers, and he walked slowly over to her. Up close, he looked even worse than he had at first glance. He wasn't crying now, but his eyes were glassy and swollen-looking, clear signs of either crying earlier or desperately trying to hold back tears. When she looked down, she saw that there was a faint tremor in his hands that he couldn't seem to control. She had known Ed had cared about the Colonel underneath everything, of course he had. But she supposed she hadn't realized just how much Mustang meant to him, how much the Colonel's death would affect him.

"How...how is he doing?" Ed asked.

His face was pale and tight with pain, and Riza wished that she could ease it somehow. But she didn't believe in lying, not even to children, and she thought it was better for him to be prepared for the worst.

"The truth is I don't know. He went in for surgery around two hours ago now, and I haven't heard anything about him since then. It'll be at least another hour before we hear anything, maybe longer."

"But...you don't really think he'll die, right?" Ed said desperately. "He can't die."

"Because a tourniquet was applied so quickly, and help was immediately called, they said he at least has a chance. If he'd been alone, he would have died for sure."

Riza saw Ed swallow visibly. For a long few seconds, he didn't say anything, just stared helplessly at the ground. He looked a little unsteady on his feet, and Riza abruptly wondered if he was about to faint. Maybe she should try to get him sitting down.

"I hate this," he finally said, voice so quiet she didn't think anyone else could hear him, not even Al.

"I know you do," Riza said gently. "It's...it's a really hard thing, and I'm here for you if you want to talk about anything, don't worry. Here, why don't you sit down over here with the rest of us-"

"You don't understand!" Ed suddenly burst out. "I-" His voice broke off.

"I do understand," Riza said softly. She had experienced almost every possible type of loss, there was very little that she didn't understand.

"No," Ed said, speaking quieter now to avoid attracting further attention. "It's not...obviously I don't want him to die. But right before you called...I was complaining about him. I was complaining about him, Riza, I literally told Al I never wanted to see him again. I didn't mean it, or at least, I don't think I did, but now he's going to die and I'm never going to stop thinking about the fact that I said that about him and the last thing I said to his face was that I hoped he had a bad Christmas and I just…." He broke off, breathing hard, suddenly looking like he was going to start crying again.

"None of this is your fault, Ed," Riza said. "There was nothing you or anyone else could have done, not at all."

"I could have helped with the case better, or I at least could have been nicer to him-"

"Don't feel guilty about this."

"Why am I so stupid?" Ed burst out. "I should have just...been nicer to him. Now I'm never going to see him again, and I-"

"Ed," Riza said slowly. "I know the Colonel very, very well. Do you believe that I know him better than you do?"

She waited for Ed to nod before continuing. "He would absolutely not want you to beat yourself up over anything that you did or said, alright, Ed? Trust me on this. He would hate the idea of you losing sleep over something you had no control over."

Finally, Ed nodded. "I'll apologize to him if they let me in to see him. Even if he's asleep."

Riza forced a small smile. "The Fullmetal Alchemist, apologizing to Colonel Mustang? I think that would make him very happy. Now, why don't you come sit down over here."

Ed obliged, sniffling slightly as he sat down next to Havoc. The second lieutenant nodded at Ed, pretending not to notice the boy's tear-stained cheeks.

"He'll be okay," Havoc said, echoing what he'd said to Fuery but managing to force a little more conviction into his tone. Ed nodded miserably, but he plastered a weak smile on his face and muttered something unintelligible.

Al came over to the team uncertainly, and Riza welcomed him with a small smile.

"Alphonse," she said kindly. She'd always liked the younger Elric, and seeing how genuinely worried he was about a man he barely knew save through his brother's editorials just strengthened that impression.

"I'm sorry to hear about the Colonel," Al said earnestly, and his tone almost brought tears to Riza's eyes. She blinked them back, determined not to fall apart now.

"Will he…." Al trailed off delicately, his voice wavering a little. Riza was almost glad that his face was an expressionless mask of metal. She couldn't look into any more desperate eyes, asking for news that she didn't have.

"We don't know yet," she said, fighting to keep her voice level. "For now, all we can do is wait."

Al made a small noise that sounded sympathetic, worried, and upset all at once. He sat down next to Ed, moving carefully onto the too-small chair. Ed didn't look at his brother, instead staring furiously ahead at the wall, eyes shiny with unshed tears. Riza didn't blame him.

She joined the rest of the team in the line of chairs against the waiting room wall as they sat in uncomfortable anticipation. Riza ducked her head and stared at her clasped hands in the deafening silence, searching desperately for something to distract her.

Nothing worked. No matter what track Riza tried to force her brain onto, she couldn't stop picturing Mustang covered in blood and gasping for breath as the doctors wheeled him into surgery. She closed her eyes, but that just made the image clearer. She didn't want that to be the last memory she had of Mustang.

Riza was lost in her blood-drenched thoughts, deep enough that she didn't notice the doctor until Havoc tapped her on the knee. She shook the terrible images out of her mind and focused hungrily on the man in front of her, feeling a knot of uncertainty grow in her stomach.

"What is it?" Riza said quickly, completely unable to read the emotion on the doctor's face. Her heart was throbbing in her chest. "Is he out of surgery? Is he alright?"

"Your friend is a very, very lucky man," the doctor said. "He lost nearly 30% of his total blood volume, he needed reconstructive surgery on many of his internal organs, and he broke four ribs as well as several bones in his wrist. He-"

"But he's alright now?" Riza said, cutting across him, unable to let him finish. "He's out of surgery? He's still alive?"

"He's alive," the doctor said. "But I don't want to give you an unrealistic view of the situation. He is still in a lot of danger, he-"

But Riza wasn't listening to anything he was saying anymore. She knew he was giving her important information, and she should be forcing herself to pay attention. But the blood was rushing in her ears, and she simply couldn't bring herself to. She just kept hearing his voice, over and over, _he's alive, he's alive, he's alive._

Riza had been sitting at Mustang's bedside so long that her eyes had gotten heavy, and she was having to focus hard to keep from falling asleep. It wasn't even late yet, she would normally still be awake at this point. But it had been a very, very long day, and as much as she wanted to be there for Mustang when and if he woke up, he wasn't exactly stimulating to watch.

He still had an oxygen mask on his face. The doctor had told her that the swelling from his ribs was constricting his lungs a little, and he wouldn't be able to get enough air without a supplementary supply. Beneath the mask, his face was a startling pallid color. They'd been feeding him fluids through a line in his arm for the past several hours, but it still hadn't put any of the color back in his face. His lips still had the same frightening, bluish tinge as before, and the circles under his eyes stood out like bruises. She could see the wound on his neck that had been done with the knife, closed neatly with butterfly bandages.

The blankets were pulled up to his shoulders, so she couldn't actually see any of the damage that had come so close to killing him. But the doctor had told her that he had a long scar trailing down his stomach from where they'd had to open him up and stitch his organs back together, and another scar on his leg from where they'd had to go in and repair the injured vein. His left arm was in a cast. There were numerous small defensive wounds on his hands and arms that had been bandaged as well. She hadn't even noticed those in the immediate aftermath of the fight, she'd been too focused on the bigger injuries.

Only one person was allowed in the room at a time, and the majority of the time he had been out of surgery, that person had been Riza. The others had all stopped in to see him for a bit, she had heard from the hallway Havoc gently teasing him over how far behind on his paperwork this would put him, Fuery earnestly thanking him for stopping the criminal that had been terrorizing East City, Ed tearfully apologizing for earlier. But once they had all finished speaking to their still, silent commander, it had been Riza who had offered to stay with him. She wasn't sure if she was being helpful by relieving them of any responsibility to wait by his side, or if she was being selfish by trying to keep him all to herself. All she knew was that she had been waiting in the room for several hours, desperately searching for any signs of life from him and coming up with nothing.

Riza rubbed her eyes and refocused on Mustang, half expecting him to open his eyes the minute she turned away. But he still lay motionless under the blankets, and if she hadn't heard the beeping of the heart monitor and seen the faint fogging on the oxygen mask she would have thought he was dead.

He wasn't dead, Riza had to hold onto that. And he would wake up. She didn't know when, but he would open his eyes and focus on her and this ball of guilt and fear she was carrying deep in her chest would finally loosen.

Riza blinked the tiredness from her eyes and settled in for a long wait.

* * *

He wasn't dead. At first, he wasn't sure why this was a surprise to him, and then he cast his mind back and he remembered the pain, the blood, and the fear. He remembered closing his eyes with a sick certainty that he wouldn't open them again.

But here he was. As Mustang peeled his eyelids back, the bright light surprised him and he fought the urge to give up and slip back into darkness. He tried again, and this time he was successful.

After a few painful seconds, he realized he was in a hospital room, less because of what he could see (only the ceiling and a bit of wall) and more because it was the only possible option.

Mustang blinked at the ceiling for a few moments, trying to breathe. His ribs hurt with every inhale he took, and he could feel something over his face, probably an oxygen mask. He wanted to remove it, but his breath felt short enough that he thought he might need it.

After he felt that he'd adequately remembered how to breathe, he decided to try to move. He started with his head, anything else seemed far too difficult.

He twisted slightly to his left, and was greeted with a gasp. He blinked, trying to clear the blurriness from his eyesight and discover who was next to him.

"Colonel…you're awake," said Riza in what sounded like disbelief. Mustang didn't blame her. He couldn't believe he was awake either.

He nodded, slightly. He didn't trust himself to speak yet. Even with the amount of pain medication he was sure he'd been pumped full of, his ribs were aching with every movement, no matter how small. He didn't think that talking would be worth the pain that would entail, at least not until he'd woken up a little more.

"Thank god," Riza whispered. "I was so worried. We all were." All? Mustang narrowed his eyes quizzically, and decided to risk speech.

"Worried?" he croaked, the oxygen mask muffling his words. Hopefully Riza would understand him, he didn't think he could speak any louder.

She nodded. "All of us were terrified," she said. "The whole team. You...you came very close to dying, sir."

Mustang blinked slowly. His brain was still fuzzy, and he was having a hard time forming coherent thoughts. But he had thought...he had thought his squad wasn't going to be worried about him, even if he couldn't quite remember why. Weren't they supposed to be mad at him still? He narrowed his eyes, wishing he could just _think_ a little better.

"Not…" he broke off a little, struggling to catch his breath. Each word was an effort to get out. "...mad?"

Riza shook her head quickly, looking almost horrified. "No, of course we're not mad." Tentatively, she reached out her hand and ran it down the side of his face, stroking his hair out of his eyes. He relaxed slightly at the physical contact. It reaffirmed what she'd said, that she really wasn't mad anymore.

"How...long…?" he croaked, unable to muster the strength to articulate himself any further. It was taking all he had to even keep his eyes open. The drugs kept threatening to pull him back under.

Riza shook her head slightly, a little confused. "You mean how long are you going to be here? It'll be...a while, sir. You were badly injured, you need time to heal. It'll take some time before you can even move around. I'm...I'm sorry."

But Mustang rocked his head weakly side-to-side. That wasn't what he had been asking. He didn't even want to think about how long he was going to spend trapped uselessly in this hospital bed, what he'd wanted to know was how many hours he'd been asleep for. He had no sense of it at all. The fact that Riza appeared not to have left his side made him think it must have been shorter, but he could have been in a coma for weeks for all he knew.

"How...long…asleep?" he managed, attempting to clarify. He saw recognition light Riza's eyes, and he made a small, relieved sound. She glanced at the clock on the wall.

"It's been around twenty hours, sir," she finally said.

He groaned softly, wishing his brain was less fogged. As near as he could figure he'd been hurt around noon the previous day. So that meant today was…

"Christmas?" he asked weakly.

The question actually startled a small laugh out of Riza. Her eyes left him as she did some calculations in her head, then she nodded. "You're right," she said softly. "You've kept better track of the days than I have. It's Christmas morning."

Mustang made a small, distressed sound low in his throat. He didn't want Riza to be spending the rest of her Christmas here in the hospital with him. He wanted her to be able to go home. And the rest of his men too...were they still in the waiting room? That wasn't what he wanted, they shouldn't be here. He had killed the criminal, after all, shouldn't they get their full leave? Shouldn't they all be able to go home?

He didn't want to have to feel guilty for keeping them here in the East City hospital all night on top of everything else.

But he couldn't worry too much about that right now anyways. The drugs that had been pounding through his system since he had woken up were reaching a breaking point, and it was taking more effort than he had to even keep his eyes open. Riza's face was blurring in front of him.

Mustang took a deep breath of oxygen, preparing himself to say the most words he had since he'd woken up in the hospital.

"I'll...sleep now," he said softly. "You...go home. Relax." He paused, trying to gather his strength. "Merry...Christmas."

Riza's face softened, and for a second he genuinely believed she might start crying. "I'll give you some time to sleep now, but I'll be around when you wake up, sir." She paused, and he saw her swallow. "Merry Christmas, Colonel."

* * *

 **A/N-** Just one more chapter to go, and it'll be posted tomorrow! If you feel like dropping me a fave, follow, or review that really keeps me going but no pressure. Hope everyone has an awesome holiday!


	6. Chapter 6

Ed paused in the waiting room, hovering uncertainly in front of the receptionist. Ordinarily, he would have charged back without a second thought, but he felt a little uncomfortable. Mustang had almost died, and the last time he'd been conscious, Ed had been horrible. He wasn't sure that Mustang would want to see him, it's not like they got on particularly well even at the best of times.

But Riza had asked him to come; apparently the whole squad would be there. And Ed didn't want the Colonel to be all alone in the hospital on Christmas Day. He gathered his courage and approached the receptionist.

"We're here to see Colonel Mustang," Ed said firmly as Al hovered at his elbow.

"Room 37, it's on the left," the receptionist answered, motioning down the hall. Ed followed her pointing finger and crept into Mustang's hospital room.

He was still asleep, sunken eyes ringed with dark purplish black, his face paler than Ed had expected. There was a thin tube leading into his nostrils, no doubt supplying oxygen. A cannula, his brain inserted mechanically. Ed's resurgence of guilt was interrupted by Riza's voice.

"Edward," Riza said softly, voice pitched low so she didn't wake Mustang. "Thank you for coming."

"Yeah, well, I had to come so I can yell at him for almost dying," Ed muttered. "He doesn't get to die til I say so."

"I think the rest of us are with you on that," Havoc said, looking over from where he was hanging paper chains in the corner. Falman, helping him, nodded his assent. Breda handed them a string of lights and wandered over to Ed, holding out the Santa hat Mustang had made him remove earlier.

"Merry Christmas, kid," he said warmly, and Ed thought that maybe he would let the hated appellation slide, just this once. He pushed the Santa hat to a more rakish angle as Breda handed Al his own oversize hat.

There was a knock at the door, and Fuery entered holding a plate of cookies. "Am I late?" he asked, hurrying to set the cookies down on the bedside table.

"No, don't worry. You're just in time. I'll wake the Colonel up now," Riza said, smiling at him. She bent down by Mustang's bed and shook his shoulder gently.

"Sir? Sir, there are some people here to see you."

Mustang's eyelids flickered and then he opened his eyes fully, looking blearily around the room at his squad. For a long few moments, he simply looked disoriented, as if he couldn't figure out how he had gone to sleep in the hospital and woken up in some sort of Christmas wonderland. He blinked slowly, expression unreadable.

"What...what is this?" he finally said hoarsely. His voice was so weak it was barely audible, but Ed was startled by how coherent he sounded. On the phone, Riza had made it sound like he could barely string two words together. Ed supposed he had still been coming off the anesthesia at that point, confused and in pain, and it seemed the extra hour of sleep had done him good. He looked like he knew what was happening now, at least.

"Merry Christmas, sir," Havoc whispered from his place in the corner. Riza had talked to the doctor before doing any of this, and he had said it was fine as long as they didn't talk too loud, didn't let him move around much, and didn't stay for more than an hour. He was still liable to be overwhelmed, although the doctor had also apparently reassured Riza that he was responding well to the surgery and the particular mix of drugs he had been given, and was recovering much better than expected.

"You're all here?" Mustang said. He sounded so completely shocked and overwhelmed that Ed felt his insides twist. Had Mustang really thought they all planned to abandon him?

Riza had told them how upset he had been at taking away their leave. She had reminded Ed that while he could be horrible sometimes, he really did care about his men, and when he had seen how angry they were he had tried to solve the case himself, which is what had ended up getting him so injured. Now their full leave was restored and an additional two days tacked on for their troubles, and all of them would be able to go back to their families, albeit after Christmas. Ed and Al had already acquired tickets back to Resembool, although they weren't leaving until the 27th. Ed was a little disappointed he couldn't be spending Christmas itself with the Rockbells, but it was still far, far better than the alternative.

"Of course we're here," Ed forced out. He had no idea if Mustang even _remembered_ the last interaction that they had had, he looked pretty out of it. But he wanted to somehow reassure the Colonel that he wasn't still mad, that all had been forgiven and then some.

"You did a good thing," Havoc said quietly. "We're...thank you."

Mustang's eyes widened with pleased surprise as there was a chorus of agreement from the rest of the team. He managed the smallest, weakest of smiles.

"But don't you ever do that again, Colonel," Riza said sternly from her place by his bedside. "You scared us half to death."

"She's right," Ed said, still caught up in the overwhelming desire to thank him or apologize or simply run out of the room. "It wasn't a very good Christmas present."

"Hey," Mustang said. He shifted slightly, wincing. "I survived, that should be a good enough Christmas present for all of you."

Ed grinned. Mustang was still pale and weak-looking, hooked up to an overwhelming number of machines feeding him an overwhelming level of drugs. But beneath all that, he was still the same old Colonel. Ed felt the knot in his stomach loosen.

"I guess it's better than that time you got me 'Dating for Dummies,'" Havoc muttered. Mustang looked as though he wanted to laugh, then settled for a grin. He was probably still in massive amounts of pain, Ed thought. It was a wonder he was even able to carry on a conversation.

"That was a thoughtful gift," Mustang said as firmly as he could manage. "God knows you need the help."

Havoc grinned and shook his head in mock anger. "I'm only gonna take this cause you almost died, sir."

"You have to take it, I'm your superior officer."

"If we're exchanging gifts, I do have a present for the Colonel," Riza said. "I left it at home though, I didn't realize we would be doing this in the hospital."

Mustang turned towards Riza, and Ed noticed that he was trying to avoid moving anything but his head.

"I can get it for you if you want," Havoc volunteered. Riza gave him a surprised, grateful nod, and Havoc headed out the door, saluting Ed with a wink as he went. His footsteps echoed down the hallway, then came to a stop. Ed heard a muffled string of words, then Havoc's reply.

"Yeah, they're all in 37. Door's open, go right in."

Ed frowned in confusion. All of Mustang's squad was here, who else could be coming? Maybe one of the nurses, to check on the Colonel?

His thoughts were interrupted by a cautious knock on the doorframe, and then Winry was stepping through the doorway, smiling at Ed and Al.

"Hi!" she said brightly, as though they'd just come to Pinako's for dinner, as though she'd seen them as recently as yesterday. Ed realized he was staring and forced himself to speak.

"W-winry?" he finally managed to say, and before he finished her arms were around him. She pulled back and grinned at him, and Ed still couldn't believe that Winry was here, in East City.

"Merry Christmas! Al, how are you? Ed, have you been drinking your milk?"

Ed let that one slide. He was still too mystified about her presence to be bothered by her nagging.

"Winry, how…?" He trailed off, leaving it to her to figure out the rest. She chuckled, eyes lighting up.

"Lieutenant Riza called me. When she told me you couldn't make it home. We worked together and figured out a way that I could make it to East City for Christmas, to see you and Al."

Ed looked at Riza, lost for words. He couldn't believe that the Lieutenant had worked so hard for him, just to make him and Al feel a little better about their holiday. He had had a long twenty-four hours, and he was honestly a little afraid he might start crying again, just because he was so exhausted and confused and relieved.

"Thank you for helping me set this up, Lieutenant," Winry said, addressing Riza.

"I'm so glad to see you here," Riza responded. She still didn't seem willing to leave Mustang's side, but she smiled warmly at Winry.

"How was your train ride?"

"It wasn't bad. But I nearly had a heart attack when I arrived at the hotel and asked for the Elrics, and they told me that they were at the hospital."

Riza opened her mouth, probably to apologize for forgetting to call Winry, but Winry held up a hand to stop her. "Don't worry about it, it wasn't a problem. I know you had a lot on your mind."

Ed shook his head slightly, still barely able to process what was happening. He found himself completely in awe of Riza. In the middle of being yelled at by Mustang, trying to solve the stupid case, she had still had time for this?

He looked over at Winry again, almost convinced she would have disappeared in the time he took his eyes off her. He touched her shoulder gently, half to bring her attention back to him and half to reaffirm to himself that she was in fact really here.

"But you...you told me you weren't going to be able to see me when I called you. Didn't you already know about this?"

She shrugged slightly. "To be completely honest, I didn't know for sure if it was going to work out, and I didn't want to get your hopes up." She smiled mischievously. "And that would have ruined the surprise anyways."

Suddenly overwhelmed, Ed reached out and hugged Winry again.

* * *

Mustang was...happy. He was in a lot of pain still. Every single breath hurt as the sheets rubbed up against the surgical site, as his damaged lungs expanded, as his ribs were jostled. He kept forgetting that his arm was injured and would try to move it, and every time he did, pain would spike through him, so intense he thought he might pass out. He knew the IV was feeding him pain medication, probably morphine, but it wasn't enough to completely dull his senses and it made him feel dizzy and a little sick. His oxygen mask had been removed at some point, and as much as he had hated the way it felt he now seemed to be perpetually a little short of breath.

But still. He found that he was...happy, or at least content, for one of the first Christmases he could remember. Pretty much everyone he cared about was in here, bustling around and laughing and teasing each other, and even though it was so loud it hurt his ears a little, and he couldn't hope to keep up with even one of the conversations, he was glad they were here.

"I'm sorry Lieutenant Colonel Hughes isn't here," Riza said to him suddenly. He moved his head so he could look up at her.

"What?"

"I tried to call him earlier, back when I thought...when you were still in danger. But he didn't really talk to me. I've tried to get ahold of him a few times since then, but I haven't been able to. I wanted him to come, or I at least hoped he'd be able to talk to you. But...it didn't work out. I'm sorry."

He realized, somewhere in the back of his pain and drug-addled mind, that she was legitimately upset. She felt she'd let him down. And he didn't like that. Of course he would like Hughes to be here, he missed his best friend, he wanted to see him. But the fact that he wasn't certainly couldn't be Riza's fault. He was probably with his family.

"It's not your fault," he said, catching her eye. "This...this is amazing. Thank you."

She smiled, and he knew she didn't believe him. Even after everything she'd done for him, even after saving his life, it still wasn't enough in her eyes.

Mustang forced back a yawn, hoping that Havoc would be back soon. He could feel himself getting sleepy again, the drugs and the pain pulling at him and forcing him down. He just needed a little longer….

A few minutes later, he heard Havoc's footsteps at the door, moving quickly down the hall. He didn't stop to knock, and Mustang had a split second to be surprised by that before he was surprised about something entirely different.

"Roy? You're...you're awake? Oh, thank god…."

Hughes covered his eyes with a shaking hand, and Mustang gaped at him. Hughes was here? Had Riza done this for him, like she'd orchestrated Winry's arrival? But a quick glance at his Lieutenant confirmed that she was just as surprised as he was.

Without thinking, Mustang went to push himself upright, then fell back to his pillows as excruciating pain from his arm and ribs washed over him. Black spots swam across his vision, and for a few seconds, he was worried he was going to pass out. There was a bustle of panicked confusion, he heard Riza and Hughes' worried voices, and then his vision cleared and he could breathe again.

"Maes?" Mustang asked, after his team was done fussing over him and making sure that he wasn't going to pass out. "Lieutenant Hawkeye said she missed you…."

"I got on a train as soon as I heard you were hurt," Hughes answered. "I kept getting rerouted because of the holiday schedule. God, Roy, I was so worried…."

"Sorry," Mustang mumbled, trying not to smile. Hughes wasn't back in Central, he was here, with him.

"But what about Gracia?" he asked, just now remembering why he'd assumed Hughes wasn't coming.

"They came after me," Hughes answered. "They'll be in East City soon. Gracia has family nearby, so we'll just stop in and say hi. Worked out for everyone."

He glanced around the room for the first time since entering, noticing the other people scattered around. "Ed! Al! Merry Christmas!"

Ed grinned at him, and Al nodded his greetings. That taken care of, Hughes turned back to Mustang.

"Don't ever do something like that again, Roy," he warned, drawing closer to Mustang's bed. Mustang had learned his lesson and didn't try to move again. He settled for giving his friend a crooked smile, as if he couldn't help himself. True enough, although Mustang would rather like to avoid this close of a shave. He was used to thinking of himself as a loner, without friends or family, but the room was full of people who evidently cared about him. He didn't want to put any of them through something like this ever again.

"I'm sorry," Mustang said, and he meant it. It was difficult for him to conceptualize that this many people cared about him. But they couldn't all be faking this much emotion, right? Hughes wouldn't have spent all night traveling around Amestris on a bunch of different trains. He may not have a family, but it appeared that despite everything, he had ended up with some friends….

Hughes reached out and affectionately ruffled his hair. "Don't be sorry," he said. "I'm just...happy you're still with me."

Mustang closed his eyes softly, trying his best to breathe around the steady, constant pain. The drugs were making him feel slow and stupid, and almost worse, they were making him feel rather sentimental. "I'm happy you're with me too."

* * *

Riza was pleased with her handiwork. It hadn't exactly been easy to set this whole thing up. She had had to fight with the doctors to get them to let her have this many people in the room, and she had to admit, they had kind of been right. The room clearly wasn't meant to hold nine people, and most of the squad was squished up against the back wall talking quietly amongst themselves. Mustang looked to be in a lot of pain, despite the fact that he was smiling, and she wasn't sure how much longer he could go without resting. She wasn't sure how much longer _she_ could go without resting. She hadn't slept in around thirty hours now, and it hadn't been an easy thirty hours either.

But it was all worth it. Ed and Al looked happier than she had seen them in _months,_ chatting animatedly with Winry in the corner. She hadn't fully expected that to work out, since it was so last minute, but she was glad that it had. They were so young, and she had wanted to make them happy, and she was relieved that she had been able to.

Hughes...had been a surprise. She had felt horrible that she hadn't been able to contact Hughes beforehand, even though she knew she'd tried everything that she could. Now she knew that she hadn't been able to reach him because he'd been on the train, trying to get to Mustang. She looked over at them and smiled. Hughes was talking excitedly to him, telling him about his epic journey to East City, and his hand was placed lightly on Mustang's shoulder as if he needed constant reassurance that he was real. It was nice he had someone who cared about him that much.

After a few minutes, Ed tugged on her sleeve, sheepishly asking her if he, Al, and Winry could leave. Riza nodded. Of course they could. She was grateful that the kids had even stayed this long, it couldn't be fun to have a Christmas in the ICU, especially now that they had better options.

"Merry Christmas, sir," Ed said, turning towards Mustang's bed and standing formally beside it.

"Merry Christmas, Fullmetal," Mustang said. He shifted a little, looking possibly like he wanted to shake Ed's hand, but he was too weak and settled for a small nod.

"Thanks again, Lieutenant!" Al said as they walked towards the door. "You're the best."

"You're very welcome, Alphonse," Riza responded, but she wasn't sure they had even heard. They were already gone by that point, too caught up in the extraordinary magic of Christmas to pay attention to anything else.

Havoc came in just a little after that, holding a small, neatly wrapped box. "Is this it?" he asked. She thought the question was probably rhetorical, she knew it was carefully labeled "Colonel Mustang" and there was no way to confuse it with any of the other precisely labeled packages. But still, she nodded.

"This is for me?" Mustang asked, eyeing it carefully. "But I...don't have anything here for you…."

"It's alright, sir," she said quickly. She knew the Colonel well enough to know that he never purchased any gifts until after Christmas, and any present from him tended to be rather pointless and incorrect anyways. But despite the fact that he had joked about it earlier, she really did believe that the fact that he was still alive was enough of a Christmas present for this year.

"Aww dammit, are we exchanging gifts now?" Hughes complained. "I do have one for you, but it's back in Central…."

"I am giving the Colonel a present, no other gifts need be exchanged right now," Riza said firmly.

"I have one for the Colonel after Hawkeye's done!" Havoc piped up. She turned around to stare at him. As far as she knew, the Colonel and the second lieutenant didn't normally exchange gifts, and she had absolutely no idea what this might entail. Mustang looked confused as well, and possibly a little concerned. Well, they would find out soon enough.

Riza considered giving the box to Mustang, but he still hadn't managed to move, and she didn't want to embarrass him. So she settled for unwrapping the ribbon herself, removing the lid to reveal a dark blue knitted hat. She'd knitted it herself, ostensibly as a response to his half-joking complaints about the cold.

"Merry Christmas, Colonel," she said, knowing that he'd like it.

"Is that a hat?" Hughes asked from beside Mustang's shoulder. She nodded, handing it to him so he could examine it and give Mustang a closer look. Before Mustang had a chance to realize what was going on, Hughes jammed Riza's hat onto Mustang's head and stepped back with an appraising look.

"It's a nice hat," Hughes said, sounding impressed. Mustang regarded him from beneath the hat, trying to look annoyed and failing miserably.

"It's very warm, Lieutenant. Thank you," he said with a smile, and she smiled as well.

"Wish you'd knit me a hat," the incorrigible Havoc muttered, and Breda rolled his eyes.

"Your mom doesn't knit you hats? You go home often enough."

"I go home once or twice a year," Havoc said with careful dignity. "Besides, my mom doesn't knit. And now, if everyone's done being rude, I have a gift for the Colonel."

Fuery looked panicked, Falman confused, and Riza realized with some surprise that this was truly Havoc's idea, and he hadn't involved the rest of the squad.

Havoc took a deep breath, as though he was preparing himself for something unpleasant. He screwed his eyes shut in a comical grimace, then opened them again and faced Mustang.

"This is only cause you almost died so we can all go home, but…." he trailed off, and Riza tried not to snicker as Mustang gave an impatient growl.

"Fine. I'm gonna sit here, in this chair, and listen silently while you lecture/abuse me about whatever you want. I won't even defend myself. You have fifteen minutes." Havoc sat down in the chair he'd indicated and looked at Mustang expectantly. Mustang's face lit up.

"Whatever I want?" he asked, looking like he couldn't believe his luck. Riza could no longer hold back her laughter, but she managed to turn it into a small cough. Behind Havoc, the rest of the squad looked a little shell-shocked. Clearly, this was a surprise to them.

Havoc nodded morosely, and Hughes cackled. "That's a good gift, Roy. I can't wait to see this…."

Muttering gleefully under his breath, he backed up to the corner and joined the rest of the squad. Mustang gathered as much breath as he could and turned his head towards Havoc.

"Have I mentioned your annoying smoking habit yet? You know, girls don't want to kiss an ashtray…."

"Merry Christmas," Havoc muttered under his breath, and Riza felt a genuine smile cross her face as she watched the Colonel happily attack Havoc. Despite all the odds, it was shaping up to be a merry Christmas indeed.


End file.
